#anyways very interesting to observe my own emotional reaction to the possibility of dating

[nightswithkookmin]

So every member has been posting on weverse or Twitter lately, they've been coming on vlive. But Jk has done none of this. Do you see his social media absence as a silent rebellion against BH for them trying to hide Jikook or do you think he's probably just staying away for like mental health reasons or something.

Run that by me one more time???

Are you asking for my opinion on why JK might be absent from social media or are you asking me to choose between those two opinions as explanation as to why Jungkook might be absent from social media???

Is it for his mental health or relationship??? Lol. You are juxtaposing two extremely opposite theories so one sounds more appealing and plausible to highlight the other as outlandish and ridiculous. But that's a fallacy ma'am. Nice try though.

Also, the part about BigHit hiding Jikook...

I object. You is leading the witness sir/ma'am.

It's a little bit silly and presumptuous to assume whenever a member is absent from social media that the only possible reason I could possibly think of is that they are rebelling against their company.

Sometimes it's just a case of volition and personal interests. Sometimes you just don't wanna be social on social media. Sometimes you have work, family, chores, practice. Sometimes you've outgrown the space or lost track of why you wanted to be apart of an online community in the first place. Sometimes it's the toxicity and wanting to take a break from it for your mental health. Literally a plethora of reasons all of which could be valid depending on the context.

I try to give my theories context by sharing as much of my thought process as possible. It's asinine to strip those contexts away and present me with a skinned theory devoid of context.

About his mental health-

Let's try it this way...

Your first Ask: is there ever a moment I wonder if Jikook are just platonic brothers or something along those lines.

Yes. When they are not together romantically. I look at them and go huh... that's a very platonic hug, or interaction. I still uWu over their interactions though.

Cute. Next.

Is he rebelling against BigHit....

Why would he?? What's the context?

Do you think BigHit is making changes JK and the others might not be happy with in the company? Do you think the company or the members are interfering in his self autonomy and determination within the group or suppressing him in anyway in regards to what he says, what he does or who he does it with?

If so then him rebelling in that way would make sense to me because he wouldn't be the first idol to have used that tactic. A lot of idols do these and worse to assert themselves against their company.

If there's no such underling subtext then him rebelling makes no fucking sense to me.

Is he staying away for his mental health

Again, do you think he's been exposed to severe amounts of toxicity and hate online beyond what all the members experience on a daily such that he would need a break from the internet to rejuvenate like we saw around 2019? If so then taking a break for his mental health would make a lot of sense too.

But for someone who keeps reiterating how important connecting with his fans is to him, you gotta wonder how he strikes a balance between his mental health needs, his emotional needs and his professional deeds.

This is the last he was seen on Weverse.

Relatively recent I'd say. So when you say he's absent from social media which timeframes do you mean? They were all pretty much off the grid until recent times post PTD not just him. Are they all dealing with mental health issues or are they all rebelling against their company or something?

You have all these tiktok trends and memes he's been referring to here and there and incorporating into their freestyle dance- seems to me he's active online alright. Just not in the way we are used to them being 'active' online. He is fulfilling that need to connect with his fans just not in a way you'd expect. I can say same for Jimin.

Just gonna have to observe things for a while to form a definitive opinion. If you know what I mean.

BigHit hiding Jikook

Sigh. Sounds like shade when you put it like that honestly and so I didn't want to touch it but also I don't think anyone in Bangtan has had an out in the open romantic relationship with anyone yet💀

Show me RMs partner or Suga's girlfriend.

BTS are hiding their relationships gay or straight. If you can see it from that angle then I think the idea of Jikook hiding their relationship or Bighit aiding them or asking them to privatize their relationship isn't so outlandish and ridiculous like you make it seem. BTS are allowed to date, they are just not allowed to make those relationships public💀

If Jikook were heterosexuals and in different bands I think a lot of people would have entertained the thought. Hell people are convinced they are each dating female idols and keeping it a secret. People are convinced JK is dating Mijoo and keeping that a secret but him dating a boy in the same band and keeping it a secret is kapushkalava😌

Theories of RM married and raising a kid abounds in this fandom and people entertain the idea. However, because Jikook are in the same band and play out certain interactions in front of the cameras the thought that they may be hiding sounds funny in y'alls ears? Jokers💀

Most idols hide their relationships and are required by their companies to keep that out of the public eye. Jikook are idols ergo they are required to hide and are hiding their relationships be it with themselves or with others.

And yes BigHit does aid them in doing so when they issue statements about that "this relationship rumor is false" or when the members evade questions about their relationships in a way to insinuate they are single and not in relationships.

How Jikook feel about being required by the company to keep their relationships to themselves or their peers taking it upon themselves to enforce those company policies of private relationships is up for debate and speculation.

BTS wrote a whole ass song dissing the company and calling them out for having a no dating policy yet expecting them to write love songs and yet somehow we think it's ridiculous that Jikook who are part of BTS would rebel against their company from time to time over certain mandates? Lmho.

Edit:

This ask was sent in a few days before JK's recent VLive. I started answering it and let it go to draft because I felt it was pointless to answer it. Especially since a lot of my thoughts on this were regurgitative, abstract, and based on my own subjective opinion and assumptions about the boys. I feel I keep repeating myself and repeating the same things I've been saying over and over with these kinds of shady trolling asks. Sigh.

However, due to recent events that gives more credit to my thoughts and feelings on the matter, I'll attempt to answer it again.

In JK's VLive he said he noticed it's been a while he interacted with Fans which is why he jumped on the Live to see Army- if we take his word for it and at face value then he said nothing about his mental health ergo it can't be because of that😌

Tae equally said in his VLive he noticed the others coming on VLive and so he thought he would come too.

Now, don't you think they wouldn't have come so spontaneously if they were dealing with mental health issues or trying to take care of their mental health???

There was a time Tae was constantly online interacting with Fans and I think I was one of the few people out here who speculated he was lonely and wasn't dating anyone at the time- which he confirmed in Soop by the way when he told JK he being online constantly was because he was lonely.

Do you think he staying off Social media in recent times is because of his mental or that he doesn't feel as lonely anymore??

I stay off line sometimes for my mental health, sometimes too it's because I feel there are people and things in my life I've neglected and need to spend time with and pay equal attention to them.

Sometimes it's because there's death in the family or studies, or work or a film I need to catch up on...

As to the relationship between campanies and artists- in case you can't pick up on the subtle cues some of the members leave- Suga captures it so well in his Weverse magazine interview.

We made you, as long as you follow our instructions you will be good. Idols are expected to be subservient and sycophantic. As Suga points out it's a thing in the industry and it's destroying the industry.

As to whether or not you think BTS are fully and totally exempt from this harsh reality because BigHit is different is up to you frankly. As to whether or not you think this type of attitude from companies can create friction and tensions between them and the bands is equally up to you.

As to whether you think certain members in BTS are more obsequious than others, more rebellious than others is equally up to you.

In what ways they rebel is up to you too.

That's part A.

Part B. Lol

I answered the first part of this Ask based on the assumption you were being shady. But just in case you were not then here is an alternative response.

Like I said, JK is not the only member who's been absent from SNS in recent times. They all were at one point.

It's interesting how they will promise to come on Vlive whenever they have some to sell us and only recently started showing up on Vlive consistently when Permission to Dance received such mixed reactions from the audience.

It seems their disconnect from their fanbase and its subsequent consequences is becoming much more apparent to them...

For Jungkook, I think the members discussed his rebellious phase at the beginning of the year when they talked about him not posting for the members's birthday, how they expect his post for Hobi to be a start of something new and Jimin even said he was gonna cut his head off if he didn't post for his birthday- I don't think in all the times he didn't post for the members it's because he was grappling with mental health issues. It's just a post. It doesn't take more than a minute to wish your bandmate a happy birthday on their birthdays.

Especially not when he was posting relatively regularly on SNS but would go radio silent on their birthdays... Forget mental health that's antisocial and we saw how the members felt about that from the VLive.

Also, I think it would be insensitive for the members to expect Jungkook to post on their birthdays or for Jimin to hold him to such high expectations when they know very well that he deals with mental health problems or was dealing with mental health issues in those periods he didn't post for them- whoever says Jungkook didn't post for the members because he was dealing with mental health issues is a fraud. Yea I said it. If I ever spewed that nonsense out here then I'm a fraud too chilee💀

His other forms of silent rebelliousness has been in passive aggressive backhanded remarks aimed at the company and at times certain members. In my opinion of course. He won't do what he won't do and if he has to do it he will do it huffing and puffing and later chat shit about it during pillow talks at night with his boyfriend.

So I don't know what it is he might zeffbe rebelling against now. Like I said, being asked to tone down does not mean he can't Jikook. They are Jikooking. It's just on the low low.

And when you say he is reacting to BigHit hiding Jikook, you have to take into account if Jungkook himself wants to keep things hidden and private. Why would he rebel against something if it's what he wants too?? Know what I mean?

This is why I was talking about context. Jungkook of 2018 and 2019 is not the same Jungkook now. He's pretty much the same person, has the same values but he is learning and growing and that is equally important in the way he sees the world around him.

For instance, he wasn't one to think much about the future when he made certain choices and this is something I've talked about a lot in my blogs. Carpedium, make hay while the sun shines etc used to be his values but now he places a lot of emphasis on thinking about the future, being considerate and about how his actions could impact his future.

Those two mindsets produce totally different actions. One is likely to do very childish things, one is not. One is likely to be reckless, not very ambitious, and less serious, while one is likely to be thoughtful, calculative, intentional and less impulsive. He talks a lot about growing up fast but now it seems to me he's catching up with the times.

This is not to say he is a different person but more so he is becoming. He is learning and unlearning. He is not there yet but he is getting there.

If he wants to sit with Jimin, Vlive with Jimin, post on his birthday and not the others, if he wants to stand in a line up next to him but he can't then definitely he's gonna react strongly to that. But as it stands he is not doing any of that in my opinion- not that I'm aware of. Dude is living his best life out here.

I think I've said this, he is happy with where they are at now. If he is not we will know. That's when they ghetto jumps out of him. Don't know if I'm making sense chilee. Lol.

On the part of the company, I can only speculate to the effect that they are looking for various means to optimize and leverage the bands high demand. That they are trying to monetize their platforms and so restricting access to the boys is part of their mid pandemic marketing strategy- something I have been saying from day dot since the pandemic hit.

Like Suga says, monetization is a huge problem in Kpop and the Pandemic has only exacerbated it.

Showing up on Vlive gives us free access to the boys. As often as we would like to see them through that medium it doesn't pay their bills- doesn't pay much especially if they earn money in Won or whatever currency Naver uses.

YouTube is great. However it comes with restrictions and challenges especially with censorship- videos can be demonetized easily and willy nilly, You have to comply with Coppa and YT guidelines. There's CPM- whixh I don't know if it's high for BTS...

Then there's that whole breaching into Korea/China market agenda going on with them etc

Bighit is a business. BTS is not a nonprofit organization. I think the members can understand that much should the company explain to them why they all- not just Jikook- need to limit access to them.

Bighit made them and holds a contract over their heads. There's a certain amount of control they have over them yet a certain level of autonomy they reserve within such a transaction or business relationship.

Take Tae's appearance in Peakboy's MV for example. It's indication BTS does have a ree will to embark on such out of company adventures. There's Hwarang and features and all these side hustles they do...

Yet in the same breath they were at one point prohibited from taking photos with fans on the streets and stuff like that- I guess I should say allegedly.

If they want to VLive they will- as to whether or not they can VLive outside schedule is another thing all together.

As spontaneous as their VLives can be, a lot of them are scheduled too. So it's interesting how they all went MIA for a noticeable minute without the company officially scheduling these 'compulsory' Fan interactions via Vlive or even YT.

Let's not pretend they don't post sometimes on behalf of certain members. Let's not pretend that that doesn't happen💀

Jungkook showed up on YT grumpy and passive aggressive talking about that he didn't know he was supposed to do a VLive, he wasn't prepared, his hair was messy, he didn't know how to operate things- sigh.

Then he nagged us to death about the arts and crafts thingy... but in his recent live he said singing is all he can do so he sang and thrust his hips away- we can't be mad at that.

So if your question is whether I think there's something up with BTS and how they are interacting with fans or not interacting with fans my answer is yes. I mean that much is obvious...

Money is the root of all evil blink blink. Lol.

Do I think there's something up with Jikook and BigHit my answer is yes still- my theory?? Well I'm still observing things and hoarding information. Can't put out half baked theories you know?

I'm a professional ship delulu theorist and I take my delusions seriously😐

I can say this though, I think BigHit has a lot to lose now that they are a publicly traded company. They have investors and stockholders they hold themselves accountable to- how the fear of a scandal or the stigma of a queer relationship plays into all that is yet to be seen.

They are trying to mitigate that risk through strategic marketing and business models- separating BigHit under Hybe is one, their partnership with Dispatch has always been one. There's just so much they are doing we don't know and can only assume or infer.

If their recent interviews and line of questioning has taught me anything, it's that they are all well aware of our theories on BTS and speculations on their sexuality and if Taemin's manager can ask him or was asked if he was dating Kai to his face then others can equally speculate, wonder and ask BigHit directly if Jikook being the sticky ones in the group are dating fueled by all the fandom theories out there.

Rumour says Jikook is gay and are dating eachother. How Bighit feels about this, how BTS feel about it, how Jikook feel about it open for discussion.

There are those who just want to nip all such rumours in the bud and those who want to lean into it and and profit off of it because negative attention is still attention.

Which brings me to your question about Jikook, because I see you sent that Ask in twice, they sure as hell are goofy and dorky. Jungkook admitted that much in his interview.

They are the ones to troll the lives out of us and feed into our delusions of them. It's why most people dismiss them as messing with fans and playful and fanservicey.

So I find it interesting that the members calling them a couple because of their outfits isn't being taken as goofy, dorky, fanservicey but as a reason to further invalidate their relationship.

If you can't take whatever Jikook says and does seriously then you certainly can't take whatever anyone says and does concerning them seriously either.

I will answer the rest of it under the Ask you sent in. This post is getting longer already.

I hope this helps.

GOLDY

[tuesdayintheservantshall]

Jimmy has no right to *that* hostile (ie downright homophobic). He already almost threw Thomas out onto the street without a reference; if anyone has a right to be scared it’s Thomas; he’s now aware everyone knows he’s gay and he knows at least one or two of those people(one of them being jimmy) would happily throw him under the bus given the chance. He’s literally never been so vulnerable and there’s no need for jimmy to rub it in

Hey Nonny you’re my first official fandom argument! Or you were when I first drafted this over a week ago lol. Since then I've waded into some drama bc I have poor impulse control. Well you're my first argumentative anon still! Do I get a prize, or do you? Have an, um apple of discord: 🍏And I will have one too: 🍏 (Intended tone: genuinely friendly, although if you are not already aware you should know that in fandom spaces messages like these are generally considered hostile acts. Most people don’t want to argue with strangers about why their faves suck, and especially not in response to tags they made about their overwhelmed shippy feelings. (Although I guess if hypothetically you’re the OP of the post I put the tags on and weren’t comfortable with them being on your post that’s admittedly a tough place to be in. Coming to me with your face on and asking me to remove my reblog or the tags because you’re not comfortable with them runs the risk of me being an asshole or taking something in your phrasing badly and starting a big fight. Uh, the chances of that seem rather remote so I’m gonna leave the tags where they are unless OP comes to me and says “I hadn’t wanted to say anything but actually -”.) Anyway I’m not gonna derail this into a long(er than it is) ramble on preferred ways to discuss disagreements in fandom but I might post something like that at a later date.)

God I use way too many parentheses. Apologies to any with a blacklist for Jimmy (do I still have any of those? not sure), obviously I don’t want to put this in the tags. I shall tag this and any further discourse on the subject with “the storyline that shall not be named”. Let’s get (finally) to it!

So, the first thing I wanna say is: yes, Jimmy makes homophobic comments and that’s bad, both because Thomas being gay is not the reason he assaulted Jimmy and because there’s hypothetically a chance someone who doesn’t already know might figure out Thomas’s sexuality based on Jimmy’s comment(s? There's the one before the rope tug and then I could have sworn there was one other one but I'm blanking on what it actually was.)However a) the moment I was commenting on wasn’t one of the homophobic comments and b) I find it important to distinguish between the specific manner of hostility (sometimes homophobic) and the level of hostility (nasty remarks and making a constant point of distancing himself) and the level is in fact 100% warranted. If you think nasty remarks and pointed distancing are more hostile than a person has a right to be towards the guy who sexually assaulted them, then we have a pretty profound disagreement.

As for your other point, regarding fear: Thomas and Jimmy both have very compelling reasons to be afraid of each other but I have to ask exactly what you think Jimmy is “rubbing in?” He initially tried to retaliate excessively against Thomas, backed down from that, and then discovered that instead of facing a reasonable consequence for assaulting him, such as being fired but with a reference that reflected the fact that this was one very bad mistake rather than a pattern*, Thomas was promoted to a position of direct authority over Jimmy. Although Jimmy was bribed into not making a fuss about this rather than, say, threatened, I think he has nonetheless been given a fairly clear message from his employers that they will back the senior coworker who assaulted him against any potential consequence he might try to bring. From Jimmy’s point of view, which is admittedly blinkered by fear and self interest, Thomas is the one in the secure, powerful position and Jimmy is the one extremely vulnerable.

I don't even just mean from his point of view like, ~emotionally. Genuine question: what would happen if Thomas started being overly touchy-feely again, or did worse than that, and Jimmy went to Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes or Lord Grantham to report it? I really don't know, and neither does Jimmy. Personally, I'm guessing that whether they believed him would probably depend significantly on things like Jimmy’s demeanor, and exactly what words he used, and basically whether he came across as a victim or as a brat trying to get someone in trouble. And which of those things a person seems like has no particular correlation to the facts of what they’re reporting - as we can see from what happened the first time! Like, Jimmy came off as spiteful and nasty and instead of being fired Thomas was promoted. That is actually what happened! The fact that Jimmy's motives were mixed doesn't change the fact of what Thomas did: Jimmy, when evaluating his safety, has access to one really strong datapoint and that’s that last time the majority of his superiors came down on Thomas’s side, either from the beginning or by the end.

Now, it’s true that he’s had a year to observe Thomas’s behavior and make an educated guess that Thomas really is sorry and won’t do it again. We can only speculate as to what extent he may have reached that conclusion and why he has or hasn’t. Some possible reasons why he might not have: trauma blinkers, homophobic and sexist beliefs, sufficiently bad at reading people to not know what clues to even look for, too self-centered to bother thinking about it in those terms... we don’t know. And perhaps he does know perfectly well that Thomas won't do anything like that again and any lingering fear is of cooties or of people mistaking him for gay and him being in the line of fire along with Thomas next time! You can read him that way if you want. You can say “wtf I see no fear of any kind”. It’s a flexible canon and none of these interpretations are actually contradicted by the text. Indeed I happily read other interpretations and when I babbled in those tags it was more "this is the interpretation I am thinking about right now" than intended to assert it as my One True Headcanon that I will not deviate from. But Jimmy definitely has reasons to be afraid, and of more than cooties.

Of course Thomas also has logical and emotional reasons to be afraid of what Jimmy might do, I'm certainly not denying that. (In fact, one of the things I find so compelling about these two is that they both have such strong reasons not to trust each other and they both reach out anyway.) It seems that Thomas’s belief in who Jimmy is as a person supersedes those reasons (“He wouldn’t be so unkind. Not on his own.”) but if Jimmy has a similar belief about who Thomas he keeps it hidden at least until the fair.

P.S. please reconsider the phrase “has the right to be scared” in every context but especially when discussing someone’s reaction to a situation that involved them being sexually assaulted. I offer you the alternative “logical reason to be scared” or "compelling reason" as perhaps capturing what I hope you meant. I think that’s a language choice that really does matter a fair bit.

#*the reference thing is tricky to think about because on the one hand I don't think it would be out of line (ethically #it would definitely be out of line from a propriety standpoint) #for Jimmy to want to know that the incident was affecting Thomas's reference in some way #but I also don't actually know enough about service and references to know how much room for middle ground there was #like if the reference says 'efficient worker but has made other staff uncomfortable in the past' or some other euphemism what does that mea #was that the sort of thing reference writers did ever? #but I don't think Jimmy actually cared about this #so I guess it's moot #the storyline that shall not be named

[toorusbaby]

second choice, pt. 4

summary: being in love with hajime iwaizumi is like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. it’s thrilling as it is exciting, but you feel a little lightheaded... because he doesn’t know how you feel. the worst part? he thinks you’re in love with his best friend.

warnings: just pure fluff, oikawa cockblocks, slow burn, slight angst if you squint real hard

word count: 1,885

part five here

Your face burned at how blunt your words sounded when spoken aloud and it took extreme self-control to not facepalm yourself in embarrassment. You nervously bit the inside of your cheek. 

That definitely sounded better in my head, you thought. 

The only sounds you could hear were the shuffling of your feet beside Iwaizumi. The ace however, was taken aback by your response and had remained silent to gather his thoughts. 

She wanted to spend time with me? Wouldn’t she want to spend time with Oikawa instead since she likes him?

Unable to hold his words back, the blushing boy had blurted out the question that had bothered him for months. 

 “Y/N, do you like Oikawa? Romantically, I mean,” He asked, his voice slightly wavering. Nonetheless, he didn’t look away from your face; he wanted to see your entire reaction. Iwaizumi was terrified to hear what you were going to say next. Even though he was hoping you didn’t feel that way towards his best friend, the spiker knew there was a low possibility of you returning his feelings anyways. Despite his self-doubt, your answer still mattered to him. When he heard you chuckle, Iwaizumi was confused.

“You keep asking me questions about Oikawa, Iwa,” you sighed and twirled the pom-pom keychain on your purse. “I won’t ask why, but this is the last time we’re bringing him up today.” You teasingly scolded the ace with a small grin, approving of his quick nod. 

“I think Oikawa is extremely attractive, not to mention charming. He’s incredibly sweet,” you started off. 

Gross. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but grimace.

“But I only see him as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less,” you shrugged your shoulders. The adrenaline in your veins gave you the courage to say one last thing. You turned your head and cheekily grinned at Iwaizumi’s indistinguishable expression. “I do like someone else though, even though he’s pretty clueless for a smart person.” 

Iwaizumi felt his chest constrict at your words but he resisted the intense urge to question who the lucky person was. Although he was silent when the two of you continued to walk, the volleyball player’s mind was filled with questions. If you didn’t like Oikawa in a romantic way, which other boy were you interested in? Iwaizumi was aware of your friend circle; the only boys you interacted with were on the volleyball team. As far as he knew, you weren’t into younger guys so he could count out the underclassmen. Iwaizumi also wasn’t suspicious of either Hanamaki and Matsukawa since jokesters weren’t your type. So who the hell could it be?

Unless the person was from another school. 

Hajime had to stop himself from clenching his fists at the thought of you swooning over a student from Karasuno. Or Date Tech. Maybe Shiratorizawa? Please God, not Shiratorizawa, he pleaded internally. But in truth, the school didn’t matter. Although he was desperate to know who the mystery boy was, Iwaizumi respected your privacy. If you wanted to tell him who the boy was, Iwaizumi would allow you to do so on your own merit.

He just really wished it was him. 

“You see that over there?” Your voice broke the green eyed boy’s train of thought. Startled, Iwaizumi looked in the direction of your finger. When his eyes landed on what you were pointing to, he was surprised. How did he not see that earlier? It was nearly impossible to miss. Iwaizumi quickly looked at you, only to be met with your twinkling eyes. Despite the icy air, you felt warm inside. The beaming smile on Iwaizumi’s face was definitely worth the cold walk. It was the giddy sparkle in your eyes that warmed Iwaizumi’s cheeks. 

“I figured you’d like it. But,” You slid your purse off and clutched it to your chest. The spiky haired boy watched you, oblivious to what you were about to initiate. Before he could question you, your body positioned itself into a running stance. “The last one there loses!” You shouted and took off. Iwaizumi blinked to himself, clearly at a loss for words. Seconds later, the blushing wing spiker found himself running after you, shouting at you to be careful. 

༺♥༻

“All I’m saying is that you should’ve never tried to go up against me,” Iwaizumi snickered, the rare sight of a smug smirk making you roll your eyes. 

“Well someone’s cocky,” You flicked the volleyball player’s forehead, eliciting a small groan from the tall boy. “But we all know that I let you win.” You grinned.  

There the two of you stood, on top of the wooden arched bridge that hovered above the koi fish pond you had grown to love over the years. Watching the koi fish never failed to comfort you, even if you had always done so alone when visiting Osaki. Today however, was different. Although you felt as if the pond was a ‘secret’ of yours, you decided to bring the special boy who meant just as much to you, along.

Despite the many clouds in the sky, a bit of sunlight had been able to shine through. The branches of willow trees that dangled over the pond that was scattered with lily pads was truly a sight to behold. With his body leaning against the railing of the wooden bridge, one would assume that Iwaizumi would be focused on the swimming koi fish just below him. After all, he was surprisingly fond of fish; the beautiful scenery before him was an additional plus. Iwaizumi never took mother nature for granted. But if that was truly the case, why couldn’t the green eyed boy take his eyes off of you?

Beside him, you were also against the bridge, your chin resting in the palm of your hand. From the way strands of your hair fell onto your face because of the wind, to the way a small crinkle formed at the corner of your right eye when you smiled down at the pond, Iwaizumi noticed it all. 

The distance between you wasn’t large by any means; it was close enough for the boy to truly study your features. The fading acne scar on your cheek, the tiny zit on your chin, a small beauty mark or two in different places. The way your mascara was a bit smudged under your lower lashes due to moving around the entire day, walking through the smoke of barbecues at the festival. The way your lipgloss had naturally faded away even after you reapplied, but hints of the color remained, reminding Iwaizumi of strawberries on a warm, summer day. 

Despite what you’d consider flaws, he thought you still looked breathtaking. Before today, neither of you had been so close in proximity physically; everything was always from a distance. However, after spending the entire day with you, the hours filled with laughter, teasing, and smiles, Iwaizumi had never felt closer to any other person, physically or emotionally.  

A large koi fish had caught your attention, surprising you at how its white scales sparkled from under the water. “Haji, look at that one!” With widened eyes and a beaming grin, you placed a hand on his arm. Lifting your gaze away from the pond, you turned your head to face the boy beside you, whose green eyes were already on yours. 

You had never had the chance to really look at Iwaizumi’s face before, especially not up close. Hajime’s dark brown hair actually had a few lighter strands, a likely result of being out in the sun for hours on end in the summer. His warm green eyes had flecks of grey within, framed by the long dark lashes always made your knees weak. You could tell that his pink lips were soft, seeing as Iwaizumi always applied a layer of Burt’s Bees lip balm; you could smell the faint scent of peppermint from where you were standing. From the obvious details to the smaller ones such as the very few fading acne scars and the small chicken pox scar Iwaizumi had next to his left eye, your mouth became dry. He was just so handsome.

Iwaizumi felt his cheeks burn at the thought of you observing his features. The way your eyes wandered across his face caused the volleyball player to purse his lips together, a wave of shyness washing over him. Was there something on his face? 

Suddenly, you felt a small itch in your nose. Quickly, you turned away to quietly sneeze, awkwardly grinning afterwards. “Oh, excuse me,” you sniffled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear to face the boy once again. This time, Iwaizumi’s lips were formed into a small frown.

Way to ruin the moment, Y/N. You sighed to yourself and pulled your sleeves out far enough to bury your clenched hands underneath the turtleneck. 

“It’s pretty cold, huh? Even so— Iwa? What are you...” 

Iwaizumi stood straight, eyebrows furrowed as he began to undo his scarf. With a sigh and click of his tongue, he expertly wrapped the navy blue fabric around your neck, lifting your hair out of the way. Frozen at his sudden action, your arms felt like jell-o at your sides.

“Geez, you’re gonna to get sick, Y/N. Why didn’t you bring a scarf in the first place? Or gloves?” Iwaizumi gently scolded, huffing in the process. His green eyes were quick to glance at your clenched fists that were hiding underneath your now-extended sleeves. 

The feeling of Iwaizumi’s body heat along with his signature pine scent that lingered on his scarf caused blood to rush to your face. You were sure you’d pass out at any given moment. Much to your luck (and confusion), you remained conscious, staring at the boy with wide eyes, especially when he began to remove the black gloves from his hands. 

“Iwa,” You called out, placing a hand on his to stop his actions. “You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, your eyes darting away from his face in embarrassment. If you thought you had been shy around the volleyball player before, this situation took the cake. You couldn’t help but stare at your makeshift sweater paws.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. If you catch a cold—“

“Iwa-chan, what are you, my mom?” 

The infamous death glare Iwaizumi sent in your direction to intimidate you only caused a loud laugh to escape your lips. It wasn’t long before you accidentally snorted, causing you to cover your mouth to laugh even more. At the sound of your snort, the ace’s frown morphed into a smile before he chuckled himself. With a lopsided grin, Iwaizumi began to slide his gloves on to your ice cold hands. You didn’t stop him. 

“Even without him here, it’s almost as if Shittykawa’s presence remains.”

“You make it sound like he’s dead, Iwa.”

“He will be if he keeps influencing you like this, you dummy.”

Iwaizumi’s teasing smile made you grin cheekily. There was truly no other person in the world that could compare to the boy leaning his side against the railing before you. 

“Shush,” you joked and used your now gloved hand to play with the ends of the soft scarf around your neck. It wasn’t just any scarf though.

It was Iwaizumi’s.

🏷️ taglist: @webkinzfroggie​ @isseikawa​ 

feel free to ask, dm, or comment to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #aoba johsai #seijoh

[shianhygge-imagines]

FFVII: Dating Headcanons [Rufus Shinra]

AN: Oooohhh yeah! Let’s do this! My brothers and I have been on a cooking spree, my bedroom is a mess, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get grief for not cleaning up the move in boxes, but I really need to write something for Rufus TT^TT He needs some love, too!

edit 05/29/2020: So... this was posted before I was aware that the official age for Rufus in the remake is 30 :3 I love him so much 😍

This is so long >.< Somehow it’s just so easy to write for him... 

|Masterlist Link|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ First and foremost, yes, I know he’s a jerk. But he’s a jerk who almost died, and is now not as much of a jerk. He’s working on it! He’s so young! He has time to improve! I mean Sephiroth almost destroyed the Planet a few times, and Genesis kick started the mayhem, but we still love them!

~ Rufus has dated before the events of FFVII, so if you’re one of the poor unfortunate souls that tried to pursue him before his near death experience... (*sighs and pats your shoulder sympathetically) 

~ Pre-FFVII Rufus learned all his relationship tricks from observing his father’s habits and behaviors from when he was young. Namely, pursue what you’re interested in without hesitation.

~ Pre-FFVII Rufus would never pursue anyone he considers lower than his station. In fact, ‘the help’ pretty much don’t exist in his eyes much like they don’t exist to many other rich folks. Any attempts to catch his sky blue eyes will be unnoticed.

~ He’s only learned to spoil the individual of his affections with materialistic things. Emotional vulnerability isn’t something that he knows how to express to someone that he should treat as an equal without it being related to business.

~ His near death experience humbles him an immense amount. It is around this time that he’ll take notice and respect those who weren’t born into affluence

~ It is very unlikely that any relationship Meteorfall would last. The world, and Rufus, had changed too much to continue with the old as if nothing happened.

~ But you must be wondering about how you’d fallen into this man’s life if he was so unavailable to the normal populace. 

~ You were an AVALANCHE plant into Shinra, where you worked as one of the staff that attended to President Shinra and Rufus Shinra. Your cover story was that you were orphaned in recent years due to escalated conflict between AVALANCHE and Shinra. You were taken in by your mother’s sister, who was sickly and unable to work. As a result, you decided to get a part time job while you completed schooling. Normally, this wouldn’t fly, as you were two years younger than Rufus at the time, but Shinra was never bothered by child labor.

~ You had originally volunteered to spy on the Company executives as a Turk trainee, but Elfie, the leader of AVALANCHE at the time, didn’t wish for someone so young to be put in a place where you were at the mercy of Shinra.

~ Still, working as a maid was hardly dignified work when your employer had a habit of leering at the staff. You had more use as a chef due to having to cook for yourself from an early age.

~ While President Shinra has little problem bribing and seducing members of the work staff into his bed each night, you noticed that Rufus Shinra had not shared his father’s sentiments... at least, not to the same extent that his father did.

~ Rufus Shinra did not take random maids into his bed every night. No. If he ever took a woman into his bed, it was some social climber or heiress that he’d met during a company gala. He would strive to enjoy her company to the fullest of his ability, but rarely did the women he brought back last further than a month with the company heir.

~ You did your best to stay anonymous while feeding information back to AVALANCHE, barely even causing a need for concern when your talents as a chef were discovered and you were transferred to work the kitchens. Even when Rufus had been kidnapped by your fellow troops, and his plot to betray his father revealed, you remained dutiful and inconspicuous.

~ Eventually, you were sent with some of the Turks and part of the main staff with Rufus when he was placed under home arrest. President Shinra had attempted to pursue you during the years of your employment, but you’d remained steadfast and unwilling despite the loyalty that you’d demonstrated during your years of service. Which was why he decided that you were trustworthy enough to spy on his son for him. The humor in the situation was not lost on you.

~ Rufus, in turn, had the Turks under his command run background checks on all the staff that had followed him from the main Shinra estate.

~ Normally, Rufus would have taken zero interest in you. You were, after all, an average civilian by all means. But the one thing that he really took note of, was that you’d been part of the cleaning staff at first before somehow getting transferred into the kitchen staff. Rufus had been impressed by the quality of his food as of recently, so he was pleased to put a name and face to the work.

~ And then he noted that you were younger than him and fairly attractive. He wondered if you had ever slept with his father for money.

~ When Tseng reported that you had been one of the only members on staff that hadn’t slept with President Shinra, Rufus found himself intrigued. Most commoners only ever showed interest in pleasing the rich for their money. For you to turn down the excessive amount of money that his father normally offered in payment... well, you were rather strange.

~ He kept an eye on you after that. Just a notice of what you were doing every so often. Sending his compliments whenever you cooked a particularly delicious meal.

~ After the fiasco with Elfie and Veld, AVALANCHE needed people within Shinra more than ever, sending others into the company to spy. With your established presence in Shinra, you were tasked only to spy on the comings and goings of the executives that visited Rufus, or monitor any business dealings that the newly appointed Vice President was involved in.

~ For a while, you were content with your job cooking meals and occasionally sending out encrypted correspondences to your superiors. And then Rufus left the island for a business meeting that was supposed to be several days long... only to return within the same night because he simply refused to eat anything other than what you cooked.

~ It had been around midnight when Reno sheepishly roused you from your sleep, stating that the vice president was back and he hadn’t been able to eat a decent meal all day. In the back of your mind, you stressed and screamed how it would be possible to cook a full course meal in such little time alone.

~ Still, you hurried to wash your face and brush your teeth, not bothering to change out of your nightwear as you left the room, feeling that haste was more important than propriety. It’s not like Shinra ever comes into the kitchen anyways. I’m going to have to change out of these clothes when I finish cooking. You sulked, not wanting to go to sleep in pajamas that smelled like cooked food.

It is when you were in the middle of making the meal, with a black apron draped over your pajamas, that the door to the kitchen opens. Expecting Reno, who normally came in to snack on whatever you were making, you didn’t turn around. “Reno, for the last time, when I’m cooking for Mr. Shinra, you’re not allowed to mooch for scraps!”

“Does Reno often enter the kitchens to steal food?”

When you were asked by Elena and Reno what your reaction was, you denied being overly startled... even if you did drop the wooden stirring spoon into the large pot of broth.

Quickly fishing the utensil from falling further into the broth, you set the spoon aside and turned to face Rufus Shinra with wide startled eyes. “Mr. Shinra! I... um apologize for my lack of professionalism.” There’s an unasked question to your expression as your gaze darted back and forth between the stove top and your boss. What are you doing in here?

Rufus, for his part, only smirked and gestured to his own attire. Black button down and loose sweatpants, his normally brushed back blonde hair hung in his face. “I believe I’ve inconvenienced you enough by asking you to wake up to cook, Y/N.” His smirk widened, “Don’t mind me, continue as you would.”

The nervous smile on your lips betrayed your thoughts as you turned back to finish up the meal, trying and failing to ignoring the observant blue eyes directed at your back. After a time of silence, with just the vice president staring at you as you cooked, you spoke up with a stutter, “Um... Reno does occasionally come into the kitchen for a snack. B-but it’s not that much of a bother!” You didn’t want to get the friendly Turk in trouble.

“I can have him removed from the kitchen, if you’d like, Y/N.”

The way he said your name sent strange shivers up your spine, and you turned to peek at your boss. “Um... n-no. That’s really not necessary, Mr. Shinra. Reno’s like an annoying big brother. I can handle him.”

Silence settled over the kitchen once more, and you turned to continue stirring the soup, checking the oven for the roasting vegetables. “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Shinra... why have you decided to come into the kitchen today? You normally wait in your office or the dining room for the waiting staff to serve you.”

After a beat without answer, you’d begun to think that you’d offended the vice president... and then, “To be honest, I wanted a change of pace from the usual propriety. Eating alone gets tedious and frustrating after a while.” His eyes took on a glint as he stared at you, “And I found myself curious as to who you were. I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Your shoulders were so tense that you were sure that you’d wake up the next day with an ache. “So, I take it that you’ll be eating in the kitchen?”

Rufus smirked, “That would be a correct assumption, Y/N.”

~ After that night, Rufus would often take his meals in the kitchen unless he was particularly weighed down by work. This caused quite the panic among the kitchen staff, and only served to annoy you when he laid off half the staff in favor of just having you as his private chef. Simply put, you went everywhere that Rufus did.

~ Despite the professionalism you exhibited, serving private meals to Rufus and his dates helped you learn more about the young man. There seemed to be two sides to him, Vice President Shinra, and Rufus.

~ Vice President Shinra was ruthless and fearsome. His business savvy rivaled only the harshest of businessmen, and he treated others with calculated cockiness and false generosity. He often acted in this manner.

~ The other side of him, Rufus, was quiet and reserved despite his business upbringing. This man rewarded loyalty and human gestures, he had a weak spot for desserts, and often made sarcastic comments. He was immensely lonely despite his power and renown, though he hid this part of him behind layers and layers of arrogance. If you were honest with yourself, you had become fond of Rufus Shinra.

~ It is the brief glimpse of humanity that was the reason you found yourself in Shinra Headquarters as Diamond Weapon approached the city.

~ You hadn’t been given orders from anyone in AVALANCHE in a long time, and took that to mean that the organization had shifted its focus elsewhere. This meant that you were free to do as you pleased. And with how close the Diamond Weapon was to Midgar, you found yourself racing to the President’s Office to get the stubborn man out of the building.

~ You reach the office at the same time that the Turks did. They shot you questioning looks as you shoved your way into the office. Out in the distance, a bright light lit up the metropolis, and you didn’t have much time to think before you’d jumped over a desk to pull Rufus to cover. Only a second later, the entire office was blown up.

~ After assisting the Turks in escorting Rufus out of the building and onto an evacuation helicopter, you revealed who you were to the Turks and Rufus. Although you were interrogated further on to what you’d been doing while in Shinra, the worst that you were punished with, was to be let go from your position.

~ Nearly a year later, after you’d used your savings (more than eight years worth of your salary) to open up a small cafe in Edge, you had moved on from your time with Shinra. While you still thought of Rufus and the Turks, you’d never allowed yourself to hope that they might stop by and visit.

~ And none of them showed up, until after you were afflicted with Geostigma.

~ It was a strange moment, when Reno and Rude both walked into your cafe, a cocky smirk on the red head’s face and Rude stoic professionalism. You’d been summoned by Rufus... well, the exact wording was that you were invited to join Rufus for lunch. And while you were slightly peeved at having to leave the cafe to your employees for the day, you went with the Turks regardless. You were just glad to have the opportunity to see them again.

~ Seeing Rufus in the wheelchair at the Healen Lodge, with cloth and bandages covering him... prompted you to reflexively clutch at your own bandaged arm, which was hidden from sight by the jacket you wore. Still, Rufus had always been an observant man.

~ He’d confessed to you his theory that Geostigma was caused by the lingering malicious will of Sephiroth in the Lifestream. And although you’d never blamed Shinra for the plague that was Geostigma, you could tell that Rufus didn’t want you to blame him for that state that you were in.

~ There was no cure, you were told. For you, and for Rufus, your time was short. And then a proposal, “Would you like to return to your previous position?” Somehow, you weren’t quite so sure that was what he meant to say.

~ It is later, when Rufus had retired for the day, that Elena pulled you aside and explained that while Rufus had missed your cooking, he’d missed the companionship that you’d provided. His words, “Would you like to return to your previous position?” was Rufus’ way of asking, “Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?” or perhaps more accurately, “Would you stay by my side as I die?”

~ And damn it, you were always a bleeding heart, weren’t you.

~ The next morning, when Rufus awoke, a grant breakfast awaited him, with you already sipping your coffee, apron still on.

~ The two of you eventually fell into a comfortable routine as you moved into the Healen Lodge, running your business from afar while remaining by Rufus’ side. At some point, Rufus had taken to holding your hand during meals or when you’d rest against him on the sofa. He’d started to walk around you without the bandages and sheet, only using the wheelchair when the Geostigma became too painful.

~ You didn’t even know that you were dating Rufus until Reno said that he’d get in trouble for flirting with his boss’ s/o. Rufus had been in the room at the time, and did not refute the sentiment, only reinforcing the fact by lacing his fingers with your own and stroking the back of your palm with his thumb.

~ It is so like Rufus to be absolutely certain that you returned his affections. Stupid stubborn fool.

~ Rufus is sweet when the two of you are left to your privacy. He’s as much a cuddler as you are willing to put up with, and he’ll put up with any amount of cuddling you desire.

~ He’s prone to spoiling you, though when you tell him that you would prefer more meaningful gifts, he starts to think about what is useful to you rather than simple showering you with designer clothing or jewelry. He learns to clean and cook just to make you happy.

~ He’s stubborn, refusing to acknowledge that he’s severely weakened even to himself. But it’s during these times where you need to support him the most. Because eventually, the disease will take its toll, and you have to be there to catch Rufus when he falls.

~ It’s almost like the two of you are living each day like your last, except for the fact that Rufus, ever stubborn and determined, has been using his resources to find a cure. Because he can’t accept that the two of you are going to die. Not when he’s only lived his life in a way that he now regrets.

~ At night, when he presses chaste kisses to your lips and pulls you close, Rufus often recounts the things that he regrets most. And letting you go after Meteorfall was his biggest.

~ “It’s my biggest regret. And now, when I have you here by my side, what I want more than anything is more time with you.”

~ The Geostigma doesn’t take either of your lives. Within the month, Elena and Tseng go missing when the remaining Turks are sent to retrieve JENOVA’s remains. Though you don’t wish to go, Rufus sends you away from the Healen Lodge. Some time later, a miraculous healing rain descends from the sky, healing you and Rufus of your Geostigma.

~ That same day, Rufus Shinra proposes to you. ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii remake #ffvii #ffvii:remake #ffvii remake #rufus shinra #rufus shinra x reader #final fantasy vii headcanons #ffvii headcanons #reno #ffvii reno #final fantasy vii reno

[alwayschoosechocolate]

Reaction: Y/n having philophobia (the fear of falling in love) [Hyung line]

Requested by @agustdbaby93​​

A/N: This is my first time ever doing a reaction and it took me ages to figure out how to make it work for me, but I really liked writing it! Thank you for requesting this, @agustdbaby93​! Maknae-line will be posted tomorrow! Enjoy!

My masterlist can be found here!

Post for the maknae line

Seokjin: 

You still awake?

The message had ticked in around 11pm. Not too late. But still. Definitely too late for an idol who was bound for an international flight at 6am the next day. Still you couldn’t help the feeling of dread and nervousness from spreading in your chest, almost cutting off your oxygen-supply. 

You’d planned to slowly minimize the contact with him and then just ghost him when he went abroad. You were sure to get your heart broken anyway so there was no use in even trying to get this working. Whatever this was. 

Really it was still nothing. You had been texting back and forth after meeting at a bar a few weeks ago. He had chatted you up and you had been absolutely sure he’d done it as a dare. But he had been unbelievably sweet and considerate, and despite not really being able to meet up afterwards because of the risk of him getting recognized, you had had a few virtual dates where he had ordered food to your house and facetimed with you while you both ate. It had been a bit unorthodox though still very nice and more than anything sweet of him to go through such lengths to figure out a way to meet up casually and not put too much pressure on either of you.

However, he had put up a much bigger fight than you had thought he would, when you started withdrawing yourself. Somehow he seemed to sense what you were planning, cause suddenly he was calling and facetiming you constantly, sending your small messages throughout the day of what he was doing, always with a goofy photo sure to make you smile. 

So when his message came in it seemed too much of a coincidence, but you had your plan and you were sticking to it. 

Placing your phone face down, you turned back to the show playing on your computer as you tried to concentrate on the drama once again only to jump out of your own skin in surprise when your doorbell rang. 

For a moment you were stunned, simply staring towards the still locked door with wide eyes and a thundering heartbeat as if the door would magically swing open and reveal whoever was on the other side. 

When it rang again you were finally kicked into action, quickly lifting your laptop off your lap and scurrying to the door answer it. 

Before you’d even reached the door, you had a sinking feeling in your chest and when you pulled it open to reveal Jin on the other side with an RJ-plushie under his arm and a tub of ice-cream in his hand, it felt like your heart actually stopped for a second. Despite how you’d tried to avoid him, your heart didn’t seem to care and was current trying to peck its way out of your chest. 

“So I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but I am not leaving the country until I figure it out,” he spoke softly, though there was a clear teasing tone to his voice and flicker in his eyes as he sent you a shy smile. “I bought ice-cream as an excuse for being a jerk. Cause I know you don’t like this stuff. This stuff being feelings,” he clarified, making you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance as you waved him into your apartment. 

“I’m not avoiding you...” you started, though you knew it would be hard to keep up the act in front of him. Especially since he had already grabbed two spoons from your kitchen and was making his way to the couch, where he immediately made himself comfortable with the ice and his plushie, sending you a patient stare along with a soft smile as if to say: “I know that’s not true, but I will wait until you admit that yourself.”

Huffing in slight annoyance, you walked to the couch and accepted the spoon he handed you, digging out a spoonful from the tub of ice cream and popping it in your mouth. Eating in silence for a few moments, you finally give in to his stubbornness with a sigh. 

Finally lifting your eyes, you immediately found his already trained on yours with a slight concerned frown to his face that he was trying, and failing, to hide. 

“Alright fine. I might have been avoiding you,” you admitted with a sigh as you quickly occupied both your eyes and hands with getting another spoonful of ice-cream, too afraid of his reaction. 

“Why?”

The question was justified and definitely to expect and yet it suddenly made you unsure of the situation. Had you been overthinking it? Was there even anything to avoid? 

“I...” 

“Cause I thought we really had something good here,” he interrupted you as he popped another spoonful of ice-cream in his mouth and eyed you with the observance of a hawk. “Hmm?” 

Unable to disagree with him, you simply nodded with wide eyes, too afraid to speak. 

“Are you avoiding me because you don’t want something more? Cause if that is the case, then just tell me and I’ll back off,” he offered with a curious eyebrow, pausing for a second to see if you’d disagree. 

“No,” you whispered timidly, huffing in annoyance with yourself for letting him in. 

In your apartment or your heart?, the voice in your head snickered. 

“Why then?” 

“Jin, this isn’t gonna work anyway, and you seem way more interested in this than I do and -”

“So?”

Feeling the rest of your arguments dry up on your tongue, you looked up to find him calmly returning your gaze causing you to cock your head in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What does it matter if I’m more interested in you than you are in me?”, he asked, RJ plushie secured in his grasped and patient eyes against your anxious ones. 

“Well, it’s not fair. And you’ll end up getting hurt...”

“Ah, but that’s my decision to make, isn’t it?” 

Again his calm voice interrupted your thoughts, making you halt and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“What?”

“I have no problem with you not being sure about what this is yet,” he shrugged as he took another spoonful of ice-cream. “I know what I want, which is you and I don’t mind waiting til you make up your mind,” he finished before eating the ice-cream. 

“And what if I decide I don’t want you?”, you whispered timidly, suddenly wishing you were the one with a plushie to hide behind. 

“Then I’ll leave you alone. As I said, it’s my decision if I want to risk my heart or not. But for you, I don’t mind waiting,” he smirked as he winked at you, making your hear gallop away as you tried to make out his words. 

“Look, I know you’re scared, but this really doesn’t have to be a big deal until you’re ready for it to be,” he spoke softly, as he reached over for your hand, his still cold from holding the tub of ice-cream. His cold hands against your skin pierced through the fog in your mind and suddenly made you aware of how close you were sitting. Eyes snapping up to meet his brown orbs staring into yours, every argument you’d ever used against such a situation died out on your tongue. “Can’t we just enjoy this while it unfolds instead of dreading the possible end of it?”, he whispered as he leaned even closer, his breath now ghosting your skin. 

“Either we stay together forever or we break up,” you whispered with closed eyes when you felt his lips ghost your cheek, still trying to find reason in a heartled situation. For him or for you, you weren’t sure. 

“So?”, he chuckled against the shell of your ear as he pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “That’s a 50/50 chance. I’m willing to take that risk.” 

Pulling back enough to see your eyes, he seemed to search them for an answer to an unvoiced question before he slowly leaned in again, eyes locked with yours as his lips halted an inch from yours. 

“Aren’t you?”

Unable to put words to your thoughts, you followed the commands of your body as you closed the distance between your lips, answering his question not with words but with actions.

Yoongi:

“Marry me?” 

Despite the words being a common exchange between the two of you, today you really didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it you thought with an annoyed huff, immediately pushing yourself off his chest and off the bed, leaving him naked and uncovered on the mattress.

You had started of as friends.

Not best friends, but still very close. 

You’d know each other for a long time and were comfortable with each other. And it was meant to be a one time thing only.

Despite the number of girls throwing themselves at him, Yoongi still needed an emotional connection with the person in order to enjoy sex with them. 

Hence, you came into the picture. 

In the beginning you’d really enjoyed it - excellent sex with a gorgeous man. What’s not to like, right? 

Exactly those two words; marry me.

It was a joke between the two of you. That if the public ever found out, you would act like you’d been married all the time. It was all in good fun and the sex definitely added to the fun, but things had gotten out of hand.

The marriage thing started as a joke, but lately Yoongi had gotten very loose with the words, throwing them around every time you came over. 

The rest of his members only laughed it off, already sure that your were dating and thus it was a harmless inside joke to them.

But to you it hit home.

Cause you weren’t dating. You were only fucking. 

And in your world there was a lot of steps between fucking and marrying.

“Why on earth would you think I wanted to get married to you?”, you cackled in a mocking tone, as you flitted around the room gathering your clothes off the floor, desperate to avoid eye-contact with him. 

“Well, you never want to talk about us actually becoming a couple..”, he trailed off, lazily eyeing you as you moved about the room. 

“And you think the solution is to propose to me?”, you snorted out, eyes still trained on the floor as you tried to calm your racing heart and your shallow breaths.

“I don’t know, Y/n. I’m running out of options,” he complained in a huff as he pushed himself off the bed to pull on his pants. “You didn’t want to go on a date, you won’t even allow me to buy you dinner. What do I have to do for you to see this as an actual relationship and not just us hooking up?”, he whined with a huff as he pulled a t-shirt over his head, glaring at you as he did.

“Well, I’ll give you a clue. Marriage isn’t the solution!”, you shrieked as you whipped around to face him, voice shrill and your eyes widened in panic. “Things are fine as they are!”

Angrily pulling on your coat, you grabbed your purse from the table and stalked to his bedroom door, whipping around to deliver one final comment, only to find him directly behind you with a stubborn look on his face. 

“I don’t care if things are fine, Y/n,” he grumbled as he reached around you and pulled open the door. Ever the gentleman, even in the middle of an argument. “I want more. I want you. And if I can only get that by marrying you, that that’s what I’ll do.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment you stepped out of his room and walked down the hall towards the living room and the front door. 

“I know it might be hard to get through your thick skull, Min Yoongi, but not every girl on the planet dreams of marrying you,” you shot back as you finally made it to the living room, where 3 pairs of eyes met yours the second your stepped in.

Great. Seemed like the Maknae-line had heard everything. 

“Then what do you want, Y/n?”, Yoongi drawled in an annoyed voice as he reached for your wrist only for you to retract it as if he’d burned it. Despite the hurt he felt at your actions, he reached out for your hand once more, this time intertwining your fingers and yanking you back towards him. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know!”, you screamed at him, unable to take it anymore. Feeling your breathing getting uncomfortable shallow, you let your body collapse on the floor and squeezed your eyes shot as it all became all too much for you. 

“I don’t know,” you repeated in a sob, as you tried to ignore the itching feeling of people watching you. 

As your heartbeat droned on in your ears, your felt more than saw Yoongi’s figure crouching beside you for a second, whispering something in your ear, though it was impossible for you to hear over your own blood rushing through your veins. 

When you didn’t answer he plopped down beside you, crossing his legs under himself before reaching out for you. Long slender fingers gently massaged your painfully tense arms away from the gridlock around your knees and coaxed your body limp and compliant into his laps where his soothing voice filled your mind, finally droning out your heartbeat.

Whispering sweet nothings against your skin as you came down from your spike, he held you close in the middle of the living room, not even once paying attention to the crowd on the couch. 

When he finally convinced you to come back to his room to rest, he sent the maknaes a very telling glare of “we do not mention this ever”, before he gently coaxed you back to his room with the words: “I hope you’ll stop panicking about us soon. I really want this to be more.”

Hoseok:

“So I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, Y/n,” he spoke in a sincere voice, keeping your gaze capture with his as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. 

He’d invited you over for dinner on your 5th date, pulling out all the stops; home-cooked meal, chilled wine, strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert. 

You knew what was coming. Honestly, it was quite clear. He had been hinting at it every since your first date. 

So you were more than ready. 

Might even had rehearsed some lines in your head, as you applied your winged eyeliner before coming over.

Swallowing the wine you’d just sipped, you put down the glass and smiled at him as you reached out to meet his hand on the table between you with a sweet smile. 

“I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together,” he spoke clearly and confidently, evidently pretty sure of himself. “And we’ve been dating for a while now and I really want to make this exclusive.” 

Though spoken in a sure voice and with no signs of hesitation, you didn’t miss the questioning look in his eyes or the suddenly too-aware loose grip on your hand. 

The signs were all there and though you had been expecting them, it still pulled on your heart as you sent him a sympathetic smile and gave his hand a small squeeze. 

“No thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him as you pulled your hand out of his and stood up from the table, not missing the way his entire face crumbled in one second to cloud over in the next. 

It would only be a matter of seconds before he called you a tease and threw you out of the apartment. You were sure of it.

“Thank you for the dinner and everything else,” you spoke sincerely as you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Why not?”, he simply asked. No anger in his voice, just pure curiosity it would seem. 

“I don’t do relationships, Hoseok,” you purred honey-sweet against his ear, before straightening up and walking to the mirror, leaving Hoseok annoyed and confused at the table.

“Where is this coming from, Y/n? I thought you felt the same way? Is it because you’re feeling insecure? You know you’re more than enough for me...”

Your cackling laugh caused his head to snap up in surprise which was quickly replaced with annoyance at your cocky stare thrown over your shoulder.

“Oh, honey. Me being insecure? Not happening. I know I am a freaking catch,” you hummed with a confident smirk to your own reflection in the mirror as you tied up your hair, sending a wink to man sitting stunned at the table behind you through the mirror. “This has nothing to do with my confidence, Hoseok.”

“Clearly,” he scoffed, standing up from the table and running his hand through his hair with a deep sigh. “Then why?” 

“I don’t do relationships,”  you repeated, still smiling sickeningly sweet at him as you tried to avoid the panic in your chest as you shrugged your shoulders. “I told you that from the start, Hoseok. Did you really forget?”  

Trying to keep your smile casual as his face remained quizzical, you cocked your head arrogantly to imply he was taking up too much of your time.

Why wasn’t he getting angry though?, you asked yourself as you struggled to figure out your next move. 

It was easy when they got angry. They practically threw you out themselves. 

But this? Hoseoks analyzing eyes on you as he seemed to weigh every simple word you’d ever said, was pure torture. 

You didn’t want to hurt him. That was exactly why you did as you did. Why you got out while it was still possible.

“Us being exclusive is hardly a relationship,” he scoffed with narrowed eyes as they traveled across your form, seemingly analyzing everything once more after your change of heart. 

“Maybe not,” you hummed as your turned towards him again, defiantly meeting his gaze. “But it is for sure the step right before, Jung. And I am not about to risk it.” 

“Aren’t you being too dramatic right now, Y/n?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s not like anything is going to change. Unless you’re dating and screwing a bunch of men while dating me then sure, some things will change,” he smirked in a challenging voice knowing you would never back down from an insult like that. 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach when his gaze met yours so shamelessly. So cockily. 

“You know, I wouldn’t do that,” you spoke through clenched teeth, getting nothing but a cocky smile back from Hoseok. 

“Then what is it? Are you afraid I won’t be able to satisfy you in bed? Cause believe me, you’ll have trouble finding someone after me,” he grinned annoyingly. “I’m simply too great an act to follow. It’s okay if you can’t keep up to begin with. I’ll slow down til you learn,” he sneered confidently. 

Not even aware it was a pressure point of yours before he mentioned it, you gritted your teeth in annoyance as you closed the distance between the two of your in a few steps and smashed your lips together.

“How are you this annoying and hot at the same time,” you gasped, when you pulled away from the kiss, only to yelp when he forcefully pulled you against his chest again. 

“It’s a gift,” he smirked before connecting your lips once more, not allowing any more complaints from you. 

Namjoon:

“I’m home,” you called as you opened the door to your apartment, knowing full and well that Namjoon would be there. After all you had asked him if he wanted to come over and he’d asked if he could use the extra key to your place to come over a little earlier. Something about practice ending early, though that sounded very unlikely in your ears, and when the smell of scented candles and food hit your nose, you couldn’t help a gloating smirk as you pulled off your shoes and walked into the living-room.

“You gotta stop doing this,” you laughed, when your eyes fell on the candles lit all over the room and the man standing in the middle with a bouquet of flowers.

“What? Why?”, he asked, his face scrunching up in confusion but allowing you to step into his arms never the less and pulling you closer as if on reflex as you nuzzled your face against his chest.

“You’re only gonna make it harder for me, when I have to leave,” you giggled, as you leaned up to press a kiss to the soft skin of his neck before drawing back with a chuckle to pour yourself a glass of wine from the bottle standing on the counter.

Drawing a sip of the bitter drink, you felt Namjoon circle his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder with a sigh. 

He knew you were right. You were sure of it. 

You had been honest and open about your short-term contract from the beginning. Never promising him more than you would be able to give. And he had never pushed that.

Until today it would seem.

“You know, you could just stay here.”

Feeling your blood run cold at the mere prospect of what he was suggesting, you shrugged it off with another chuckle.

“You know, I need to move in a few months,” you reminded him with a hum as you grabbed the wine bottle and poured a glass for him as well, though he didn’t accept it but settled for snuggling deeper against the crook of your neck. 

“Why do you need to go? Couldn’t you get your contract extended here?”

“I could but then I would have to stay here for two more years,” you shrugged, refusing to follow his reasoning.

Namjoon nodded excitedly at your words, pulling back a bit to see your expression.

“Exactly! Two more years here with me,” he stated in a happy tone as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, making you roll your eyes and step out of his grasp leaving him looking after your like a lost puppy.

“Sure,” you snorted out in ridicule, wincing slightly at the hurt-puppy look he sent you. “More like a few more months with you and two years of me being stuck in a place because of a guy who left me. No thanks.” 

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s soft voice pleaded, making you halt in your steps and turn back towards him. “You know it actually hurts my feelings, when you just assume I’m gonna end up hurting you like that.” 

His eyes were sincere and hurt, but he was tense and he actually seemed angry, making you cock your head at him in confusion as you let your eyes sweep over his form before snapping back up to his face which had gone a lot softer in the meantime.

“Sorry, I’m just speaking from experience,” you shrugged, trying to play off how your heart was galloping away. 

“I know. And it’s honestly the only thing I hate about you,” he answered brazenly making you scrunch up you nose in annoyance at his words, until you heard his reasoning. “That you’ve been hurt so bad that you expect no one will ever treat you well again.” 

“I-” 

Unable to find an answer, you were left searching for the words as your eyes followed how he stepped up to you again, hands gently cupping your face as he placed a feather-light kiss on your lips. 

“I know you want to run. Because you think it’s easier to run than to trust. But I want you to know that even if you don’t trust me yet, I would never do anything to hurt you. And if you feel more comfortable with running, I want you to know that I will still wait here for you if you do choose to go. Still, I hope you chose to stay here with me. I won’t disappoint you. I promise you. You just have to give me a chance,” he whispered against your skin as he kissed away the tears, you hadn’t even known were falling.

#bts reaction #bangtan reaction #bts imagine #bangtan imagine #request #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #hyung line #bts hyung line

[toocool2btrue]

They were Roommates 2/2

Unedited. Please ignore the small mistakes and i hope you enjoy it.

"Nadia?"

"Helloo Lance. Longtime no see! How are you this fine afternoon?" she cheerfully greeted.

Lance's brows furrowed in confusion, Sure Nadia was one of Pidge's closest friends but she hardly came over here.

"Katie's in the kitchen." he pointed towards the almost closed door. "What brings you here?" he politely questioned and Nadia winked in reply. "I am here on a very important mission" she declared. "The greatest mission ever inthe history of mankind. I am here to do God's work!"

Lance shook his head in amusement, Pidge had no right to call him overdramatic when her own bestfriend was like a walking theatre. "You!" she pointed at him. "You might be actually very useful for this mission"

Lance immediately perked up, "What is the mission about? Is it something for Katie?" Nadia nodded approvingly, "Katie was right. You are smart"

His eyes widened, "Katie thinks I am smart?" that was news for him.

Nadia nodded, "She says you have a way with humans and this trait of yours will surely come useful because you see my dear friend Katie is a very intelligent woman when it comes to science."

Nadia then sighed exhaustedly, "But she can be so oblivious when it comes to human emotions. She wouldn't able to spot true love if he danced in front of her wearing 'I ♥ K' shirt"

Lance chuckled at the imagery, "Actually I can agree with you on that"

"I am so glad you do because now we have a chance to make things right!" Nadia stated as Lance gave her quizzical look.

"Are you trying to set her on a date?" he questioned, his tone had taken a more sober turn. Nadia could feel that although his expression hadn't really changed, the lightheartedness had disappeared.

She fixed her glasses as she continued, "Well yes. You see I have noticed that James really likes her"

"The guy inside?" he questioned again, pointing towards the kitchen. Yet again his tone was nueteral but there was a certain edge to it.

"Isn't he cute?" she questioned, suspiciously.

Lance muttered something inaudible to himself, she noticed that his eyes were constantly flitting back to the kitchen. Nadia's curiosity levels were rising as her mind played the multiple possibilities.

Katie's roommate had a thing for her? That was a stupid question to ask it seemed pretty obvious that he had. Nadia mentally facepalmed, she wouldn't put past her friend to not notice that. To be fair, he was quite a looker too. They would make a cute couple as well, she grinned evilly.

But first she needed to find out if Katie liked him as well or not. Nadia really wanted to further interrogate Lance but just at the wrong time her phone started ringing.

Usually she would just told the person to call later but considering the said person was her mom, she just sadly excused herself.

Lance only distractedly nodded in acknowledgement as Nadia headed towards Katie's room. The conversation with her mother ended up being longer than she had originally ended. By the time she finished, Katie had already returned to her room.

"Hey!" Nadia grinned widely but Katie was not going to buy the act.

"What are you doing here. Didn't you have a test today?" she questioned suspiciously.

Nadia pouted, Katie should be happy that Nadia was here to fix her weird love life. Ungrateful friends but being the good friend she was, Nadia decided not to take her friend's hostility to the heart. Instead she decided to test her theory.

"Class got cancelled. So I came here to check on Mr Cutie" she informed, Nadia leaned closer as anticipated her friend's reaction.

Katie merely smiled in amusement, "He just left a few minutes ago besides you are going to see him tomorrow in class anyway so what's the rush?"

Theory one- Currently rejected. It was time to test the second theory

"Speaking of cuties, your roommate is pretty cute too. Do you know who he is dating recently?" Nadia smirked.

To Nadia's utter amusement. Katie frowned, a look of irritation sparked in her eyes. "Geez Nads, Last time I checked I wasn't the manager of his love life"

"Still you seem to be extensively aware of it" Nadia grinned, seeing Katie's cheeks puffed up.

"Hard not to notice when he was parading them all around our apartment" Katie replied dryly causing Nadia to almost choke at her own laughter.

"Although.." Katie thoughtfully added, "He hasn't brought anyone for a longtime now"

"Do you think he might be currently interested in someone?" Nadia questioned, evilly.

Katie shook her head in a horrified manner, "God help whichever poor girl he is after now"

____________

"I don't believe this" Allura whispered. "Well it's the truth. I did an experiment and everything" Nadia assured.

"Didn't you go there to check on Katie and James?" Romelle reminded.

"I did" Nadia nodded gravely. "So did you?" Allura questioned raising a suspicious brow.

Nadia laughed nervously, "I got a bit distracted with my new observation."

"Nadia.." The two girls chided.

"Guys you have to believe me-" Nadia defense was cut off by Keith's entrance.

"Hey, what are you guys upto?" he greeted taking his usual seat next to Allura.

Nadia immediately perked up at the sight of new audience, "Keith, you have no idea what I discovered!" she declared proudly. Keith questionably looked at Allura who simply shrugged before turning back to Nadia.

"Lance likes Katie!" she announced, awaiting for another shocked reaction.

"I know that" he casually informed. "So it's actually true?" Allura questioned excitedly, earning a glare from Nadia.

Allura nervously laughed, "Now Nadia honey. You do have a tendency to overstate at times."

Keith smirked, "He rejected Miranda Green for her. Of course it's true"

"What!!" The three girls echoed.

"Please tell me you are not joking" Nadia asked in disbelief. Keith shrugged, "I don't joke"

"Dude I don't think even I could reject Miranda Green. Lance must be really serious" Nadia concluded.

Keith rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, "He talks about her all the time in class. He better be serious"

"If Katie likes Lance as well. How come they fight so much?" Romelle questioned, confused.

Nadia smirked devilishly, "It must definitely be the tension between them"

"Although.." Allura tapped her chin thoughtfully, "If you think about it. It's been sometime since Katie has mentioned a fight between her and Lance"

Keith smirked, "You guys are finally catching on. This thing has been going on for sometime now" he stated.

"How come you never mentioned it to me before?" Allura asked.

"Well it isn't really my place to tell besides I knew you guys would eventually figure it out. They radiate vibes of an old married couple"

____________________

Lance glared at the half written page, his brain felt numb and with every passing second he was losing his will to live.

"Stupid sea! Stupid fishes! Stupid life!" he muttered angrily, trying his best to keep his brain alive.

"Still here?" a mischievous voice called, he looked up to see Pidge standing at the doorway of the kitchen with her trusty laptop.

Lance groaned, rubbing his eyes "Kill me. I know you always wanted to do that"

Pidge nodded sympathetically, "I would but since I worked really hard this semester. I can't afford to go to jail"

She walked over to him and inspected the screen. A ray of hope lit inside his heart, Pidge was a genius, she could definitely help him.

"Deep sea ecology.." she mumbled to herself. Pidge sighed, giving Lance yet another sympathetic look but this one seemed more genuine.

"I am sorry but I am terrible in biology. I can't help you" she apologized and Lance's eyes widened with shock. Even Pidge couldn't help him it was definitely the end of the world.

"But your mom is a botanist! You own half a dozen plants! How can you be bad at biology?!" he questioned desperately.

"Well unfortunately my brother and I got the physics part more from our dad. As for the plants, I would consider myself more of a gardener rather than a botanist besides you wouldn't consider every dog owner a zoologist now would you" she explained.

Unfortunately that explanation brought little comfort to the sleep deprived boy. "I am going to flunk this class" he cried out in distress.

Pidge cautiously eyed her roommate, had he finally cracked?

"You aren't going to fail this assignment" she tried to reassure, comfortingly rubbing his shoulders.

"You still have time" she reminded, glancing at the clock. It was 1 in the morning. Unfortunately Lance was wasn't much a night owl, at his best he could probably stay awake till 3 am.

"Not alot of time but you can still do it" she whispered mostly to herself.

Lance lowered his head in defeat, "It's no use I don't have the energy anymore. My brain is numb"

"I can help you with that" she offered heading towards the kitchen cabinets.

"I know you are more of tea person but coffee is your savior today." she informed. Lance nodded gratefully, "So what are you working on in this fine hour?"

"Matt and I are working on a program and I needed to get the coding done for it by yesterday but then I got occupied with that project with James... so here I am!"

"We are very sad people" Lance bitterly concluded as Pidge handed him his coffee. "Drink this and I am sure you will stay awake for atleast another hour" she assured.

"Thanks" he mumbled taking a sip of the hot energizing beverage.

"Wait where are you going?" he questioned, as Pidge headed towards the door with her laptop and her own coffee mug. "Well you are working here so I will work in my room" she explained.

Lance shook his head " I think the kitchen table is big enough for both of us to work at the same time"

A bitter taste entered his mouth but it wasn't the coffee. It was jealousy as he was reminded about yesterday's events, Lance knew he was acting petty but he couldn't help it.

"You were working here with James just fine" He added.

Surprise overtook Pidge as her eyes widened at the sudden mention, it caused another wave of irrational jealousy in his stomach.

"We were working on the same thing so of course we had to sit together" she replied, feeling a spike of irritation.

Lance shrugged, "We can still work here together. There is enough space and I know this is your favorite place to work"

"Come on" he urged, "I don't bite"

Pidge wearily eyed him, "Factually speaking I do know some girls who might say otherwise" Nontheless she took a seat beside him, opening the laptop with a exhausted sigh.

She took a big gulp of coffee, glaring at the screen as Lance had a few minutes ago before started her work. Pidge furiously typed letting out all her exhaustion and frustration on the keyboard.

Lance simply watched, momentarily forgetting about his own assignment. Although she was one of the most straightforward people Lance has had the pleasure of knowing but Pidge was still great in hiding her emotions towards people.

Heck she gave Lance a hard time figuring if she liked him or not.

"P-Katie?" Lance warily called. "Hmmm?" she hummed in response, if she ever felt any surprise of him using her real she certainly didn't show it.

"Do you hate me?" he asked abruptly.

The exhausted look Pidge gave him reminded him of his dear mother, "Yes, I hate you and that's why I made you coffee and comforted you a few minutes ago" she sarcastically stated.

Lance weakly chuckled at the response, feeling a sense of relief.

"But I don't think you really like me that much either" he mumbled. "I can't blame you though I did alot of things that pissed you off"

"I used to do a lot of those things too but none of us has done either of those things for a longtime now" Pidge reminded him, still glaring at her computer screen.

"Still I threw that big party that almost got both us into deep trouble even though you warned me not to do so"

Pidge shrugged, "But we did figure out a solution and didn't get into trouble. It happened months ago and now it doesn't matter"

Lance smiled to himself, "It mattered to me. It was the first time we actually worked together"

"Oh" she whispered looking at him, realising he was right. It was the start of their era of peace after months of bickering and fighting with one another.

"And I really like it. You know us getting along..." he confessed shyly.

The night was a quiet cold one. It felt like the whole city was fast asleep except for the moon and the two souls. The late night provided an atmosphere of drunkness, the sleepy drunkness when our thoughts don't remain guarded by the walls of hesitation.

That gives us the bravery to face what we try to avoid. Lance had realized that he was long lost in those amber eyes. Not many had the courage to explore those golden orbs but here he was lost inthe desert, wandering as a thirsty man in search of water afraid that he wouldn't survive long.

Katie on the other hand was only inthe brink of realization, she had unknowingly ventured deep in the ocean, She was curiously searching for something but still unaware of the deph of the sea. The lack of awareness didn't make her fear the idea of drowning yet.

His words rang in her head, I like it when we get along. She could have retorted with her usual teasing but this was a moment of honesty so she smiled, "I do too"

The grin he gave her in response made his eyes crinkle at the ends, this was the moment she realized that despite of crazy antics at timesshe didn't dislike him. Dislike was far from what she felt, the moments of tolerance had unknowingly turned into fondness but was it the same fondness that she felt for the rest of her friends? Something felt different with Lance.

"So would you like to renew our housing contract for the next semester?" he questioned hopefully.

A few months back the idea of it gave her nightmares but now with the twist time brings Pidge found herself grinning "Sure" she agreed.

Lance's face curled into his signature impish smile, "I can't believe I finally managed to charm you" he teased but there he was again disguising something.

Pidge rolled her eyes at him, "Stop talking and get back to your work or I might start reconsidering my decision"

"Aye Aye ma'am"

__________________________

"Morning!" Lance called out to Pidge as she slowly padded out of her room.

"Morning" Pidge yawned, making a weak effort to fix her bed hair. "Did you get any sleep?" she questioned, inspecting the boy who was fully dressed and ready to go out.

Lance nodded tying his shoes, "Three hours but atleast I got the assignment done. I feel like a free man. Thanks again"

"Anytime" she mumbled still half asleep. "Hey do you want me to drive you to campus?" he asked.

Pidge shook her head, "You are already running late and I don't have class for another hour so I'll just take the bus later"

"I'll see you later" He reached out to ruffle her hair.

"Don't you always" she joked, swatting his hand away. Lance gave her a small smile, "Yeah it's just..." his eyes wandered from her to the clock on the wall. "Shoot! I am late!" he panicked, waving a quick bye before heading out of the door.

"Goofball" she whispered affectionaly closing the door.

_______________________

11:30 am marked the end of her of class. Most of the students had disappeared just as the Professor had left the room but Katie remained seated in her usual spot. She was busy reading the group messages that described the pain of her dear absent friend.

"My cramps are killing me!!"~ Nadia

"Have you tried ginger tea. It helps me"~Allura.

"I have tried everything!!"~Nadia

"There are certain exercise positions that help"~Allura

"Allura,I swear you are going to die as soon as I get the strength to get up!"~Nadia

"I am at the store. I got the painkillers and the chocolates. Coming home soon"~Romelle

"Romelle marry me!!"~Nadia

Katie giggled, Good old Romelle saving the day. Before she could further read the messages to know whether the wedding happened or not, Somebody gently tapped her shoulder.

Katie was surprised to see, pleasantly surprised to see James. "Hey" he greeted and Katie nodded in acknowledgement "Hi"

There was a nervous look in his eyes, "Uh.. Katie can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure?" she answered with uncertainty wondering what could the possible favor be. James cleared his throat, " I was wondering if you could go through with me with the last week lecture."

He nervously scratched the back of his neck, "This is kinda embarrassing but... that lecture totally went over my head and you really explain things so well. When we did the project together it was the first time I had so much fun doing something for Professor Hugo's class"

Katie cursed her pale cheeks as they turned into a bright shade of red but at the same time she felt a jab of sympathy for him. She had her older brother to help with such ordeals or else she might be in such deep waters too.

"Sure, I am free today if you want to come over?" Katie offered to which James nodded gratefully "Thank you!"

__________________

"Hmm..that's weird" she mumbled to herself opening the door to an empty and silent apartment. Lance was usually home at this time, she felt rise of disappointment in her stomach.

"Your roommate isn't home?" James questioned, looking around. Katie shrugged in response, she didn't know whether to find it unusual or normal. She headed to the kitchen where there was a note taped to the fridge.

"Gone to buy groceries" she read, shaking her head. To think he could have used his phone to an advantage and just messaged her that but then again Lance was a man of his own quirks which couldn't be questioned.

"Let's began" she declared opening her notes. James took the seat beside hers and opened his own notebook as well, "Can we please start with the numericals. They kill me a bit everytime I see them"

"Sure" Katie chuckled and they set to work. Tutoring James was hardly a difficult task, he was a fast learner and there were the occasional side conversations and remarks which made the whole thing more interesting. James certainly had a captivating personality but still Katie found herself eyeing the front door waiting for a certain someone to return from his shopping.

"When I got into this university. My mom was so happy she called all our relatives and couldn't stop praising me in front of our neighbors. It was so....embarrassing" he mumbled, the color red dusting on his tanned cheeks.

Katie couldn't help but think how cute he looked. She wasn't aware how many kinds of categories for cute guys existed but James had the mature charm to him unlike Lance who was boyishly cute. The charm of his was the only thing that made him a bit bearable before they learned to get along.

Katie groaned in agreement, "My parents were worse. You would think after my brother they would have calmed down a bit but nooo...When I got accepted they threw a party and all their colleagues and our family kept ask if I was going to follow my parents legacy but I got a decent amount of gifts. So all was forgiven"

James chuckled, leaning closer. "I don't know. I think their reaction was justified. Who wouldn't be proud to have such a genius daughter"

Katie's face turned bright crimson, only now she had noticed how close he had gotten to her. It caused a storm of butterflies in her stomach. She slightly shifted back but in a process to do, she elbowed her textbook which had been dangerously lying at the edge of the table, knocking it down. The book fell between them.

"I'll get it!!" they both called, ducking down to retrieve the book. They both looked at each other slightly startled on now close their faces were. Katie was transfixed by his gaze, not finding the strength to move. Nervousness danced in his blue eyes but they were grayish blue rather than Lance's bright blue ones.

James onthe other hand was done dancing around this topic. He gently cupped her cheek in his hands and closed the distance between them. Despite her surprise, Katie responded, her eyes closing . Her brain had gone haywire, nothing made sense anymore.

Her ears pricked at the sound of the front door closing and that was enough for her to break from her trance. Unfortunately it was proven to be too late because as she opened her eyes and pulled away.

Lance stood at the entrance of the kitchen deathly still, his bright blue eyes which usually sparkled with merriment had a maddeningly dangerous to them. He mouth which was initially opened due to shock twitched into a scowl. He shot a deathly glare towards James but when he turned towards Katie there was hurt evident in his eyes which mercilessly twisted her heart

He slammed the two paperbags containing the groceries onthe table muttering a quick "Excuse me" and then left the kitchen. The 'thud' made by the bags woke Katie from her second shock of the day.

"I am sorry.. but you should go" Katie whispered to the confused James before running after the other boy. "Lance!" she called out to him but he already slammed the door. She impatiently rapped on his door calling his name but no reply. After a minute or so, Katie gave up.

Her legs felt like they were made of jelly. With shaky steps she made her way to the couch, her heart was beating rapidly against her chest but unknown for what occasion. "What the hell is happening?" she whispered clawing her hair in frustration.

The regret was soon followed by anger, she didn't know specifically who the anger was directed to. Firstly it was on herself for letting this situation happen then it was on James for initiating the situation but inthe she found the true culprit.

Lance! How dare he react like that. Her business was none of his concern. She was most definitely not answerable to him and she didn't need to feel guilty for anything! She hadn't done anything wrong. He was no saint himself afterall, if her action was a crime that boy would be serving life in prison without parole.

She bitterly glanced at his closed door, he could live in there for the rest of his life for all she cared. To think they were making progress and she started considering him a close friend and then it all got ruined.

Katie had enough of the day, she slowly walked towards her room and then stubbornly slammed the door shut as well, It brought a little satisfaction to her at such times. Unfortunately the last traces of anger soon disappeared from her body and previous guilt returned. Despite her consolations that it didn't matter what Lance thought, deep in heart she knew it did and the fact he was hurt because of her, made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Katie tried to view her unconscious actions with a more conscious perspective. Why did she run after him? Was she more concerned with hurting Lance rather than James? The answer was in front of her and as much as she wanted to. She couldn't deny it anymore.

"No no no. This can't be happening" she groaned in her pillow, not him. She couldn't possibly be in love with Lance, is this the price she had to pay for the amazing apartment?

But wait ! Did it mean Lance liked her too?. Katie shook her head in disbelief, it couldn't possibly be true. She was well aware of Lance's type and truthfully speaking she was far from it but his weird behavior would make a lot more sense to her now.

"Uff!" she groaned in frustration, she lay on her bed with her hands crossed against her chest. She needed to talk to Lance and make things clear with him or else her mind wouldn't stop pestering her about it.

Reluctantly she gave up the comfort and security of her bed and padded towards Lance's room. She firmly knocked at his door, her ears straining to hear the sound of approaching footsteps from the otherside.

But there were none, Katie rolled her eyes. She didn't want to play his silly games, "Lance!" she called turning the handle on his door. To her surprise, it opened to a empty room. She stood there puzzled for a second before heading to the kitchen.

There was a new note on the fridge, "Gone out" it simply read. The action she had found endearing a few hours ago now felt heart breaking. Pain clawed at her heart as Katie realized that the situation was more grave than she had anticipated.

Slowly she walked to room, she softly sighed picking up her phone and preparing herself for the long the conversation ahead. "Hey Nadia." she greeted, "Get the girls I need to tell you guys something"

______________________

Lance tried to blink back his exhaustion, it had been two days in a row since he hadn't had a proper night's rest. Ironically the reason behind his lack of sleep for each night had a stark difference between them.

He took another sip of his coffee which didn't taste half as good as the one Pidge had made that night. Lance slightly winced at the memory he was desperately trying to forget still he managed to recall it a hundred times by now each time felt like fresh stab at his heart.

The campus cafe was filled with students, most of them quietly sipping their coffee and working on their respective assignments or preparing for test but there was also small minority of people who were talking to their friends and enjoying the early morning but Lance's attention was caught by a certain couple who had just entered.

Allura and Keith looked at each other in surprise as Lance McClain came stumbling towards them . He had a troubled look on his face, Lance nervously ruffled his hair. "I..need your help" he whispered, hesitantly.

Keith looked at Lance as he had grown another head while Allura being aware of the situation decided to take matters in her own hand. "Let's take a seat and talk" she suggested, directing the two men to a empty table.

Lance explained the previous day's events "What do I do now? " he questioned, helplessness evident in his voice. Allura symphatetically patted his shoulder but Keith onthe other hand was not feeling that emphatic.

"You should do what you should've done a longtime ago. Tell her how you feel! How long had you intended to play the game house with her?" he questioned coldly.

Allura angrily eyed Keith to which he sighed and took a more gentler tone. "Look, Katie isn't forever going to wait for you to ask her out. It was this guy today but tomorrow there will be another one and eventually someone might catch her eye. So just be honest with her and tell her how you feeling!"

Allura nodded encouragingly, "Keith is right. You need to communicate with her rather than assuming everything on your own."

__________________

"There he is" Nadia pointed out the familiar burnette. Katie nodded, trying her best to keep a calm composure. She took a deep breath mentally rehearsing the speech Allura and Romelle had made for her.

"You can do this. Good luck " Nadia softly assured, the usual eccentricness was missing from her tone. Katie started walking towards the man in question with steady footsteps but the man was walking much further ahead from her.

She mustered up all her energy, "James!" she called out. The young man stopped almost immediately, he turned around to see her walking towards him with great speed. Surprise was weak word to describe what was written on his face, the man positively looked frozen in shock.

"Uh..Hi" she meekly greeted, as the whole speech flew off from her head. "Hey" he nodded in acknowledgement, there seemed to be a unspoken compeitation between them on who could die of embarrassment the fastest.

Katie sighed, rubbing her arms in comfort, "Look James, I am really sorry for giving you the wrong idea. I really like your company but I don't think of you anything more than a friend"

James gave her a small smile, There was hurt evident in his eyes and Katie felt the lump in her throat rise. She hadn't really ever envisioned herself such a heartbreaker.

"It's alright I kinda figured that. Also I am sorry too.." he shrugged trying to act casual, "For assuming things. I hope I didn't cause any big problem between you and Lance." Katie smiled bitterly looking at the ground, "You don't need to worry. We'll figure things out"

"So I'll see you in class then" she reminded awkwardlyand James nodded, "See you". Katie walked away, feeling partly relieved but now only the easy part had been over. She sighed, the hard part was yet to come.

An hour later Katie found herself seated at the back of the bus. Her mind deep in thought as she stared out of the window, how had everything turned upside down in just a day? Just two days back James was just a friend, Lance was just a friend and now here she was trying to mend her relationship with each of them.

Katie shifted in her seat as the familiar rows of buildings appeared. She wasn't even sure if Lance was going to even talk to her, she had no idea how to deal with him when he was angry which was ironic considering that they spend early months only fighting one another.

Katie yawned, trying her best to keep her eyes open. She had spent the entire night tossing and turning, reconsidering her affections a thousand times for she knew her next decision was very going to be an important one. Unfortunately the mental as well as the physical exhaustion was drowning her strength, she couldn't find the power to convince or reason with Lance at the moment.

The bus finally stopped at her usual stop, Katie along with a few others grabbed her bag and stood up to leave but at the last moment decided against it. She slumped back in her seat, observing the dark clouded sky which was a great representation of the storm that was going inside her. She watched the last passenger get off and then as the bus started again, Katie with her last bit of courage messaged Lance that she was going be home by 10 pm.

Surely this gave them enough time to cool down and let them have a rational conversation. Trying to ignore the knots in her stomach, Katie switched of her phone and instead tried to focus on planning her study schedule. Next stop Olkarain Library.

______________

"Concentrate!" she demanded, feeling annoyed by herself but at the moment it seemed like an impossible feat. Her mind couldn't stop thinking about Lance, she hadn't seen him since last night and although she knew he wasn't that reckless to get himself into trouble her idiotic heart couldn't help but worry. That boy better be home by the time she comes.

Katie sighed casually flipping through her textbook, she really needed to get this done but her mind was already drifting of and the library was so peaceful and quiet. Maybe if she closed her eyes for 5 minutes she would feel more refreshed and probably get something done.

Just 5 minutes, She convinced herself resting her head on the desk and closing her eyes. Just 5 minutes and she will most definitely get back to work......

A few hours later

"Katie" a voiced called out to her lightly shaking her shoulder. Katie finally lifted her head, her eyes still partly closed.

"Lance?" she groggily called out. The owner of the hand chuckled, "Unfortunately no. It's me, Ryner."

This was enough to wake her up completely, "Ryner!" she squeaked, her face flushing with embarrassment.

Ryner nodded with a small knowing smile on her face, "I have to close the library. You should pack up and go home now" she whispered softly. Katie looked around to see the library now dark and empty with the exception of Ryner and her.

She nodded and started slowly packing her things. Ryner nodded with satisfaction "It's very late, Lance must be worried about you." she remarked slyly, making Katie almost drop her precious laptop. Her mentor then thankfully walked away sparing Katie from anymore embarrassment.

Katie hoisted her backpack and finally opened her phone which she guessed had been powered off for a few hours by now. The sky was pitch black, the dark clouds had completed hidden the pale moonlight.

"What!" she exclaimed, checking the time. It was 12 am and she had messaged Lance that she would be home by 10. Hesitantly she opened her call log to see 22 missed calls and 56 messages from Lance. "This can't be happening" she muttered, if Lance was mad at her before she surely didn't want to imagine his reaction now.

But still mustering up her courage, she pressed the call option. "Hi.." She whispered helplessly.

"Katerina Paige Holt, where the hell are you!" Lance replied his voice brimming with anger and worry. She was mildly impressed that he remembered her full name considering he always prefered to call her with that awful nickname but that was something to celebrate another time.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled, there was a pause on the other line. Lance sighed and continued in a more softer tone, "Katie where are you? Do you have any idea how worried I am. It's midnight and you aren't home yet and you aren't picking up your phone. I even called your friends and they said you weren't with them. Is everything alright?"

Katie tried to swallow back the lump which had reappeared in her throat. "I am fine. I am at the Olkarain library that is near your favourite ice-cream shop". There was silence on the other line and Katie held her breath. "Stay there. I am coming to get you" he commanded, ending the call.

As Katie ended her call, a drop of water landed on the top of her head. "Quiznak!" she cursed, as she realized it had started to rain. It was the only thing left to complete this awful day. She moved nearer to the library's entrance whose design provided enough shelter from the rain.

She leaned against the door, going further down her call log praying she hadn't missed any of her mother's calls. "Hunk?" she whispered in surprise, he had called three times in a row around 9 pm. That was weird considering she and Hunk usually talked during the weekends but it must be something important. Doing a quick calculation of time difference in her head, she called her bestfriend.

"Hi Katie, where were you?" Hunk questioned. "I fell asleep while studying" she explained and Hunk chuckled in amusement.

The two friends a minute to catch up on everything before Hunk stated his reason of call, "Mom and Dad were wondering if you two would like to renew your contract. They are really hoping you do. They say they can finally sleep in peace knowing the apartment is safe and not being trashed."

Katie felt rush of gratitude for Hunk's parents trusting them so much even though they had been once very close to breaking that trust. "I would really like to renew it but I am not sure Lance wants to live with me again" she replied, her heart felt it was being squeezed mercilessly.

"Ok someone tell me what is going on between the two of you!" Hunk declared frustrated.

"I talked to Lance a few hours ago and he said the samething as you. I don't get you two, One minute you despise each other and inthe other you are best buds. Just yesterday afternoon Lance was asking me the recipe for the Peanut butter cookies to make for you and now you guys can't live with eachother?!"

Katie's eyes widened and suddenly her started beating rapidly, "Lance was asking what?"

Hunk sighed onthe other end, "He said something about you helping him with some project and that's why he wanted to surprise you with peanut butter cookies"

"He did?" she asked, her voice cracking, as unconscious tears started trailing down her face. "Katie are you alright?" Hunk's questioned startled. Before she could reply, another voice called out to her.

"Pidge! Stay there I am coming!" Lance shouted, getting out his car which he fondly named Blue although it was bright red. He pulled out ridiculously bright yellow umbrella as well and starting walking towards her not caring of the puddles that made his favorite shoes dirty.

Katie watched with a horrified realization, her heart threatened to come out of her chest and all she could think at that time was. This was no ordinary crush, it was something scarily deep. She was in love with Lance McClain.

But the idea didn't seem as terrifying as she once thought. After all the guy was Lance, the funniest person she knew but will never admit, A guy with a heart of gold and oh those blue eyes, she could stare into them forever.

As he finally reached her, Katie couldn't hold on any longer. She was done acting strong, one look of Lance standing there with that stupid bright yellow umbrella was all it took for her to engulf him in a desperate embrace.Despite his initial surprise Lance gladly returned the gesture securely wrapping his free hand around her waist.

"Hey there Pigeon, you really scared me" he softly whispered in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

"Ok I'll just hang up myself. You two continue" Hunk shouted, from the phone scaring the life out of Lance and causing him to drop the umbrella. Despite the moment Katie couldn't help but giggle pulling away from Lance. "Sorry Hunk. I'll talk to you later" she apologized sheepishly.

"You two better give me a decent explanation later or else I am gonna come back and bring Shay's cousins to kick your asses!" he threatened.

"Will do" they chorused ending the call. Lance watched love stricken as Katie clutched her stomach trying to control her laughter. "Hey there" he whispered, clasping her pale hands in his tanned ones and pulled her closer to him.

"I want to apologize for acting up like that" he mumbled and Katie nodded forgivingly.

"Also there is something important you need to know" he murmured, gently touching her cheek. Instinctively she moved closer to him as well.

"Katie, I am in love with you" he whispered feeling terrified by own his words. This was the first time he made such a strong and although she didn't immediately reply, there was something in her eyes that told him that she felt the same.

"I love you so much" he continued kissing her forehead. "You won't believe me if I told you" he softly chuckled, kissing both of her cheeks.

Katie giggled as Lance kissed the top of her nose. Lance nervously glanced at her lips and Katie smiled to herself knowing this was her move to make.

She smiled teasingly at him before finally confessing, "I love you too" she uttered shyly and then standing at the tip of her toes she finally closed the distance between them.

A Few Weeks Later

"Katie, I love your dutch braids" Allura praised. "How are they so perfect. I always end up messing mine" Allura asked.

Katie proudly held up one of them, "Lance braided them. He spent half an hour on YouTube figuring out how to do them perfectly. I tried to stop him but he was stubbornly convinced that they would suit me"

Nadia elbowed Romelle mischeviously, "Look at her. She is so smitten by him to think once they were just roommates."

The End

Hi Guys! I know this was very long post but if you made it till the end. I just wanna say I love you guys! Thanks for reading this story.

I want to specially thank @suemaryrakocy, @as2015 @nessajjewell @kathybuglove @elby-the-megnet @jewelcuzimpreciousdamit @jood-89 for their amazing and supporting comments which gave me the motivation to complete the story. Thank you so much guys. Also thank you to @rueitae For her amazing tags. They make my day. I am terribly sorry if I missed anyone, it's 2 am here and i am barely awake.

I hope you enjoy the story. Please Reblog if you liked it and please do tell me what was your favorite moment.

#plance #pidgance #roommates au #jealous lance #oblivious pidge #kallura #Keith #allura #voltron #watering the plance #garden #hunk #nadia rizavi #James Griffin #plangst #fluff #happy ending

[demaury]

the best of me (chap.1)

“If anything bad happens I flush the rings, I leave my bestman spot to Baz, and I fly back to Paris.“

OR. Eliott and Lucas have never worked up the courage to actually make a move, and thus spent years dancing around each other without ever acknowledging their feelings. However, an engagement party gone a little too wild, an hotel room and a very bad idea might be all it takes to make everything blow up. (read on ao3)

Lucas had never truly believed that marriage would be something that could happen to him.

Or to any of his friends, for that matter.

It was something vaguely intimidating, that they occasionally joked about but never took seriously enough to consider it. It’s not like we’re gonna get married, he would scoff whenever his friends showed any interest in the new protagonist of his dating life — who never stuck around long enough to even think about it anyway. Marriage wasn’t real. They were still in their twenties, they were still meeting up for predrinks and playing video games until ungodly hours.

Lucas often forgot to lock the door before going to sleep. He sometimes considered candies, potato chips or spoonful of Nutella to be actual meals. He had no idea what was a tax stamp, what was his social security number, who the hell was his emergency contact (did he even have one?), and on the last round of the Presidential Elections the weather was just too good to bother waiting in line to vote for people he didn’t even know — nor cared about. He hated wine, even the fancy ones, didn’t like Champagne, and sitting on a chair was a challenge in itself at work because his first instinct was always to twist his legs at weird angles. He had been gifted a Pikachu Onesie a couple of years ago as a joke present for his birthday and he sometimes liked to wear it during winter because it was warm and comfy and nobody had to know about it. He still cart-surfed down the empty aisle at the supermarket, still felt like the cashier judged him whenever he bought condoms, and he had survived a running nose for a full year because he had dragged taking a doctor appointment.

Marriage? No, not happening.

So there was really no logical reason as to why he would find himself buckling up, in a plane, on the way to Barcelona, one fine July morning. Well, at least he didn’t have any a week ago.

It was precisely two days after a wave of heat had fallen upon Paris. In the span of twenty-four hours, the thermometers had reached well over 30°C, and effectively turned Lucas’ flat, along all the other buildings in the city, in some sort of furnace where you had trouble breathing at all. He should have known that it was the sign that something very weird would happen. Last time there had been seven centimeters of snow was the same day he had found out one of his now-exes was sending nudes to someone else, and one particularly rainy evening, while the Seine was already overflowing its banks, his dad had called to tell him that he wanted him to meet his new girlfriend.

So technically, yes, he should have known something weird would happen, the very moment he had exited his air-conditioned office at 5 in the afternoon, only for the dry summer heat to hit him with the strength of a sledgehammer. Yet, it wasn’t until three hours later, when his best friend called him via Skype all the way from Barcelona, that Lucas started thinking something fishy was happening. And definitely, marriage was not on the shortlist of things he’d have thought about.

“You did what?” he had blurted out, nearly dropping the plastic spaghetti jar he had just picked up from the kitchen elements, spinning around to face his best friend through the screen with wide eyes.

“I proposed,” Yann had repeated diligently, very proud of the emotion he had just caused. “And Nola said yes.”

On the moment, Lucas hadn’t been sure of what to say.

A week later, he still had no idea.

Apparently, though, he was the only one, if everyone else’s reaction had been any indication. Ever since the others had received the news, boys and girls had all been literally buzzing. Basile and Arthur had created a groupchat five minutes after Yann had called them, to gather as many embarrassing material as it was possible to dig for whatever thing he had planned for the weeding, while Daphné had taken over the organization of the trip with Nola, since they had all been invited to celebrate with them in Barcelona for a three-day weekend.

Don’t get him wrong, Lucas would have been thrilled to get an opportunity like this one, considering the fact that you could make fried-eggs on the sidewalks and that he hadn’t had a proper night of sleep in days because he felt like he was suffocating whenever he laid down. But apparently the stars had aligned to mess it all up, and that was the exact reason why he was forced to fly on Saturday morning, an entire day after everyone else had already flocked in Barcelona — save for Emma.

“Dude, I had to literally fight to get this weekend off, don’t even get me started,” she had groaned while they were taking possession of their seats. “Emilie was a total bitch, like apparently it’s rude to ask her to switch shifts when her kid is sick. What do I know? How am I supposed to know that her stupid kid’s got fever? I’m not a psychic.”

Lucas snorted, leaning back against the backrest of his seat. “Maybe she dropped clues and you didn’t hear. Not the first time it’d happen.”

Emma pulled a face. “Rude.”

Lucas shook his head a little. The plane was filling itself with other passengers surely taking off for weeks, instead of a short weekend. Until the middle of the week, he had been set to fly on Friday morning, and he had already made plans to meet up with everyone else at the gate in Orly Airport. But on Wednesday, his boss, Julie, had barreled into the small office he was sharing with an intern to inform him that she had an emergency situation and wouldn’t be available on Friday.

“I’ll need you to cancel your plans that day, I need someone to keep the firm open,” she had said, and Lucas had almost started complaining out loud.

“What about Bérénice?”, he had tried, helplessly gesturing at the empty desk of the intern.

Julie had grimaced. “I’m sorry but I don’t trust her enough to give her full authority. Clients will come to retrieve contracts and she’s not familiar with the whole process. I’m sorry.”

Before he could even protest she had disappeared through the door to her own office, and Lucas had been left to stare begrudgingly at his computer screen with the feeling of having been betrayed on a deep, deep level. He had always gotten along rather well with Julie, ever since he had started working in that architect firm, but right now he wanted to murder her with his bare hands. Or maybe just set the firm on fire. In the end, Alexia, who had managed to score her day off last minute had exchanged her plane ticket with him, so at least he didn’t have to pay another 145€ for nothing, which was probably still better a consolation that nothing.

Still.

“Don’t you find it weird that Yann’s getting married?”, he said after a while.

Emma turned a blank look on him as she glanced up from her phone. She pondered the question. “Dunno. I mean, if he feels like it…”

Lucas gave her a face. “C’mon. We both know he’s not exactly… eh, the best at relationships,” he said emphasizing the two words with a pointed look.

Emma shrugged, waving slightly. “It’s one of those things you never know if you’re good at until you tried. Frankly, what’s the worst that could happen? A divorce never killed anybody.” She widened her eyes slightly then winced when she looked up at Lucas’ clearly annoyed face. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal until kids come around and-”

“Whatever,” he huffed. His parents had divorced years ago. In the meantime he had grown up and mostly gotten his shit together, so it was safe to say he was mostly over it. “He’s your ex. How many times did you guys start it all over? I’ve lost count.”

“Are you trying to make me freak out to hide the fact that you’re freaking out?” she snickered.

“I’m just saying that three years ago no one would have bet a penny on the two of you waving hello.” And certainly not more than that, he added to himself. It was frankly the understatement of the year. Not only Emma and Yann had started talking again, but Lucas had stumbled on them with their pants down during a particularly memorable New Year’s Eve party, where he had to eventually find an alibi for Yann’s girlfriend.

“Look, it’s not the same,” Emma rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t happy with Marion and we just had comfort sex.”

“That stretched out for weeks.”

“Do you know the very concept of fuck buddies?”

“I’m not sure that fuck buddies usually attend their booty-call’s engagement party,” Lucas observed, fishing his phone in his pocket.

“You know we stopped this months ago. It’s really no big deal and Nola’s okay with it.”

Lucas cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed, before nonchalantly unlocking his phone. “Does she know about the fuck buddies part?”

Emma opened her mouth, then seemed to think about her answer before shrugging one more time. “If Yann came clean about it then yeah, I bet she does,” she eventually said.

Lucas’ eyes snapped up and he stared at Emma, eyes bulging. “Oh, man, this is gonna be a mess,” he huffed, shaking his head. “You do know Basile’s already there, right? Basile and his big fat mouth? Basile no-filter Savary?”

“So is Eliott,” Emma bit back.

It was his turn to open and close his mouth, without being able to get a word out. “What the fuck does it have to do with Yann getting married?”, he asked haughtily.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, “I’m just saying that while we’re talking about weird as shit relationships you need to take full responsibility of your own mess.”

He scoffed, but his eyes were glaring holes. “It’s gonna be easy then because there’s nothing weird about Eliott and me.”

“Right,” Emma drawled. He almost thought that was it. That she would gracefully drop the topic, a topic that was not even a topic in the first place, let alone her business. But instead, she pretended to give it a thought before she turned to him. “You know what? You’re right. After all ten years might not be enough for it to become weirdly comical. Because, y’know, the first five years it was fun to see you both dancing around each other, then the last five years it was just, well, plain depressing. Maybe in, like, five years, it’s gonna be fun again.”

“Just fuck off,” he gritted. “Eliott is my friend, and he was always there for me just like I’ve always been there for him. I don’t see how that can compare with the weird shit you and Yann keep pulling every three years or so,” he retorted dryly. And with that he grabbed his earbuds, put them on, and ostensibly turned his head the other way.

*

Okay, here was the thing.

When Lucas was young, he had started believing in alternate universes. Parallel worlds never really colliding, but with another Lucas in every single one of them, experiencing different lives and various fates. There was something comforting to it, to simply think about all the roads he hadn’t taken, the choices he hadn’t made, that other Lucases got to experience for him.

It had been comforting, really. To a certain point, at least.

He hadn’t exactly seen the biggest downside of it all until he was 16, and until he met Eliott. The guy had barged into his life during his second year of high school, after Christmas Break. Lucas could still remember the way the walls had seemed to collapse when he had entered the common room meeting — the way his eyes had travelled up all the way to him as if he was a magnet, and the way his breath had caught in his throat, lungs crumpling in his chest. Eliott was beautiful, with his crinkly eyes and his disarming smile, but he was also insanely hot. Hotter than anyone Lucas had ever met. Prettier than anyone he had ever seen. And, well. That’s exactly where the problem had been since the beginning, since the first time they had met, since the moment they had hit it off at that vending machine, right after the common room meeting.

Lucas Lallemant wasn’t a match for Eliott Demaury and would never be.

It had been mostly fine until the night Eliott had told him bluntly, on the way back from a short-lived party on the school grounds, that he wasn’t necessarily looking for a girl to date. A straight guy was just a straight guy until he wasn’t anymore. But still, for better or for worse Eliott was still dating his long-time girlfriend, Lucille — it wasn’t like he was on the market.

It had become much more complicated when, a month or two after starting uni, Eliott had eventually dumped Lucille for Julien. An asshole, if you asked Lucas. Ridiculously good-looking for a philosophy major, and overly confident at that. He was tall and slightly lanky, about the same frame as Eliott — in short, the perfect size not to make hands holding or kissing awkward. Lucas had been on the shortlist of people who had gotten to meet him first (a privilege he’d have been fine not having), and when everyone had bombarded him with questions about Julien, all he had found to answer was 'they look good together’. It wasn’t a lie; they really did look good together. And frankly, it was the only thing Lucas had allowed himself to say about it, because he just couldn’t bring himself to lie.

What was the problem with the parallel universes, you’d ask?

Well, it was the very night Eliott had come out to him that Lucas faced the bitter truth. He was lying in his bed, wide awake, eyes fixated on the ceiling when it hit him like a truck: somewhere, in another universe, Lucas n°99942 was hot enough to be considered a match for Eliott Demaury. You’d think it’d be more complicated to go on from there, to keep being friends with Eliott, to keep seeing him dating other people, but it wasn’t really that complicated. There was just nothing Lucas n°1 could do about it and water had flowed under that bridge. He had found cute guys for himself, not as hot as Eliott, and sometimes not nearly as caring as him, but that was just how it was.

For the most part, Lucas had made peace with it. Well, key words being ‘for the most part’. There was just no point in pretending that he wasn’t feeling his heartbeat rise up suddenly whenever Eliott’s face would brighten up at the sight of him during a party, or the way he’d always make sure that Lucas had a spot next to him whenever everyone would gather at a random bar. There was also no point in denying that a pair of stormy grey eyes sometimes popped up in his brain at… well, odd times. Nevertheless he’d blamed it on Eliott, and Eliott’s personality altogether. Everyone had feelings for him to a certain degree, even the straightest of their friends. Even Basile, Arthur and Yann had already put Eliott at the top of their list if they ever were to switch sides. Sure, for the past few years Lucas and Eliott had gotten even closer, but it wasn’t anywhere like Emma made it sound. It wasn’t odd and it wasn’t toxic. Maybe he hadn’t been fond of all of Eliott’s relationships. Maybe he hadn’t been thrilled to see Eliott get himself into a polyamory thing with a guy and a girl, particularly because he was afraid Eliott would end up hurting. Maybe he had told Macha, Eliott’s most recent ex to this day, to fuck off once. He wasn’t proud of himself but he had always made amends afterwards and Eliott had always told him it wasn’t the end of the world.

They were glad to have each other, and it didn’t make it any more awkward between them that it did with Yann, plain and simple. It was nearly 11 when they made it to the hotel and he just couldn’t wait to let the pressure out and see everyone, he thought as he pushed open the door to the hotel’s lobby.

“Hey, don’t we know these two?” Emma asked, smirking as she gestured from her chin.

Yann and Eliott were chatting by the counter of the concierge. Eliott flashed them a smile, interrupting whatever he was saying, and Yann spun around to grin brightly at them. Hugs were in order and Lucas was soon wrapped in the arms of his longtime best friend. “Bro, congrats for Nola and you,” Lucas said, hugging him back. “You’ll make her super happy.”

No matter what he thought about the whole ordeal — he had figured it was the best to say. Right?

“Thanks Lulu,” Yann replied, still grinning broadly, then he went on to hug Emma. “Fuck I’m so glad to have you guys here. It’s gonna be awesome, everyone’s waiting for you!”

Eliott crossed his arms over his chest, and the loose tank-top he was wearing did a lot in favor of his biceps. “Don’t I get a hug or what?”

“Fuck you’re so needy, we’ve seen each other three days ago,” Lucas snorted, but he still went for a hug nonetheless.

Eliott chuckled, pulling him close. “It’s just nice to have you around.” He ruffled his hair a little as Emma and Yann were talking close by.

Lucas smiled and parted from him with the feeling of not having had nearly enough. “You too,” he smiled, looking up. 

Eliott slid an arm behind his neck, just like he casually did so often, making them both turn around toward Yann and Emma.

Lucas voluntarily ignored the pointed look she gave him as the four of them made their way to the elevator.

#eluficrecs #skam france #elu fic #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu #mine #* #*tbom

[naysaltysalmon]

2 years have passed.

Just two months after I started college freshman year, I made a post titled "good shit i've noticed after being away from my abusive family for 2 months." The post wasn’t very popular, so I kinda forgot about it. Although, now, I think it's about time I remade that list -- for my own self-measurement if nothing else, but more than that... I hope this can be helpful to anyone else going through a tough time, facing a situation similar to what I was.

Independence gets easier. Like, a lot easier. At first, it was hard to do everything -- anything -- on my own. I couldn’t accept that I could be something without my parents’/family’s voices always egging me on, with their deceit to crawl back to. But overtime, I’ve grown to fully understand how they didn’t meet my needs anyway, and it wasn’t that I needed or wanted to be around them, but that my sense of familiarity with them made me believe our relationship was good/necessary to my identity.

The wonderful sense of identity and agency you start to gain. Related to the previously point, now that I don’t have my parents to baby-talk me into and out of situations, I don’t always have their voices in the back of my head telling me what to do in every situation. I can choose whether to buy myself a tacky shirt and only have myself to worry about the repercussions (if there are any, which there usually aren’t other than some facepalming because I didn’t think of how hard said shirt would be to clean). I can choose whether to go to class or hang out with someone and not have their opinions constantly hanging over my head from the questions such minute things would produce. The only thoughts I have to worry about are my own, (and of course friends to an extent,) and that voice is getting easier and easier to deal with.

Talking about money gets a lot easier. I used to feel really guilty whenever I would have to talk finances with my parents, friends, or acquaintances. I’m essentially paying for college on my own right now, except that I need my parents to sign the private loans to cover the remainder of that. I used to agonize over this because it felt like I was “using” my parents’ money even though I had no intention of ever seeing them or going to visit them. Now, I remember that it wasn’t as though we had a close relationship to begin with; this business-like attitude with fake cordiality that I’ve taken up with them is what I need in order to give myself a good life, to separate from them, and to be with people who actually care for and understand me. They are the ones who produced this relationship in the first place, as they never cared about my emotional state while I was living with them, and we only had a superficial relationship based on physical needs anyway. Don’t let your conscience weigh you down. Sometimes your own drawing of boundaries for self-protection and -preservation is what they need to grow too (but don’t expect them to).

Drawing boundaries gets easier. I sometimes fear taking time for myself not only affects my reputation to my professors/colleagues, but drives my friends away, making them question my loyalty and thus our friendship as a whole. This is not the case. As long as you clearly communicate what you need and can/cannot do at the time, even if it’s at the last second when you’ve already made plans, anyone worth being around will understand and not hold it against you.

The suicidal thoughts disappear, and the depression becomes less frequent with time. First semester of freshmen year, I was riddled with lapses in my mental state, which filled me with immense confusion, especially after I had just escaped my family. It made me question if I really had made the right decision in moving away from them, if anything would ever make me happy. This reaction came from the sudden schism placed upon me in relation to my peers, who hadn’t just come from a broken household. It made it impossible for me to relate with anyone or have friends for the first few months to a year that I was in college. The smallest triggers have set me off ever since then too, ranging from feeling exhausted and unmotivated while on the computer to having a full-on panic attack during class. As my mindset has changed, however, it became easier to open up to people, and thus easier to make friends, and in turn to heal, grow, and thrive.

The hyperalertness and exhaustion disappear. When I first got to college, just hearing other people in the same dorm as me exhausted me. Just walking to the cafeteria was all I could do after class because being around other people was just so exhausting, as I was always on high alert, just as my parents always taught me. The more time I spent doing things I enjoyed, making friends who imbued me with confidence and energy, and growing in all these other ways, my stamina increased while my sense of danger decreased. Now I have energy to go to class, get food, go to the gym, to work, to do homework and socialize all in one day -- and even if school in general is exhausting and I need to take a day off here and there, I find enjoyment in a certain level of tiredness.

People aren’t scary anymore. Because of all the things I’ve already mentioned, making friends and becoming more independent, I don’t feel like I’m constantly in danger around people anymore. When I’m in a new situation, I generally feel like I can handle it because I understand that most people aren’t looking to pick apart my mind and soul at every given second -- only someone who is very mentally disturbed (like my family) would do such a thing -- and if I make a mistake, I remind myself that I’m still learning how social situations function after getting out of the hell hole that was my household. For the most part, though, most people are too self-absorbed to care about what anyone else is doing and don’t give a flying fuck.

I can recognize unhealthy/toxic behavior in other people and in my own thoughts a lot easier. Anyone whose energy rubs me in the wrong way is ignored; as I’ve already had a lot of experience dealing with toxic people in my family and can more easily recognize my triggers to when I used to live with them, having been away from them and with more easy-going people now, I can quickly pick up on someone’s toxic behavior. I had a fight with my friend recently, and just realized that since I didn’t/don’t feel I could say my side of the issue, just like my family would have done to me when I lived with them, that that friendship probably isn’t healthy for me anymore -- I should feel able to speak my mind without the fear of being minimized in the face of someone else.

I’m interested in dating??? I’ve never been a very outwardly romantic person in my real life, but now, I’m wondering if it’s because I was forced to become a statue of a human around my family, seeing as they jumped on any emotion that wasn’t focused on themselves. Now, I find myself wanting to scream my feelings to the world sometimes -- not just negative ones, but positive ones too. I’m not so worried about being judged for my emotional reactions, and in fact feel that I’ve been able to grow closer to the friends I have now when I’ve allowed myself to show and feel more of what’s going on inside me. I may want to extend this to my current crush too !

Being alone in a crowded space isn’t lonely anymore. I always feared I was “doing something wrong” if I didn’t always have someone with me -- whether in the cafeteria, running errands, or otherwise -- as I did when I was living with my parents. They were my supervisors and ensured I wasn’t “alone” in the world. That isn’t true -- I’m very much someone who needs time to myself, and my parents only proved to be a force that withheld my agency from me as they constantly made decisions for me. Being alone in a busy place puts me at ease sometimes more than being with another person, as I’m allowed to observe and meditate in my own little space without anyone directly around me.

The trauma... it slowly dissipates, becoming less with time -- and, slowly, you get to become who you always wanted to be and never could before. I know this one sounds like the cliche line from every story in human history, but hopefully all of my former points have demonstrated this. I still deal with my trauma in my daily life -- every day, pretty much. I don’t go many days without thinking about it. But it’s no longer a behemoth overshadowing every thought in my head and every action I take. It doesn’t impede my energy and mood every moment; it’s a little observer that sits on my shoulder, not separate from me, as that would be impossible, but no longer commanding all of my attention nor possessing the loudest voice amongst all the things swirling in my head. I have to gauge it, watch it, make sure it isn’t taking over too many of my thoughts, but also listening to it when it speaks, taking what it says into account. I have to take care of myself sometimes in ways that no one else understands -- neither friends, colleagues, college staff, nor professors -- and that in itself can be lonely and exhausting, even depressing at times. It isn’t easy. My development up until this point hasn’t been out of mere spontaneous happenstance -- I’ve been going to therapy since freshman year, and still find myself overwhelmed by all the thoughts -- all the voices -- blurting things out in my head. However... I also find myself doing and thinking things -- encountering new situations -- I never would have imagined possible before, when I was in middle school and high school, living under the toxic roof of my family.

Most days are still hard. I still have a long way to go, that’s for sure -- but the amount of recovery I’ve made up until now, in such a short amount of time, has already made me cry on more than one occasion, knowing in how dark a place I’ve come from, and how much farther I can still go.

Don’t give up. You can get through this. You will get through this, and things will be better if you keep your mind focused on what matters, which is your health.

I’m nowhere near complete with my recovery, but more than anything that fact gives me hope on how much I know I can still improve. I’m already feeling the effects substantially after only 2 years! I hope hearing my experience and progress with a lifetime of trauma recovery will give you hope too. So many people talk about the elusive “light at the end of the tunnel” that they reach once one has “recovered,” but so few people talk about the actual steps you take in the darkness, and how scary and exhausting and lonely and frustrating that can be. I might talk about that more in another post, but I hope this was helpful for anyone else going through a hard time.

I wish only mental clarity and hearty happiness upon anyone else trapped in a similar situation. I didn’t think I could make it, but here I am. I know you can too.

#Nay talks #you're all strong and beautiful and YOU CAN DO THIS. #I hope this helps someone #personal #important #v personal #tw: trauma

[cassandrale179]

EX MACHINA: THE PRICE OF CREATION

Date: April 6, 2019 

“To erase the lines between men and machine is to erase the lines between men and god”

                                            Bernie Wrightson (1983).             

I. ON HUMAN EGO 

I opportunistically watched Ex Machina after reading Mary Shelley’ Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus, and the random-idea connector in me could not help but compared the two. There’s just something beautiful about seeing a tale written back in 19th century running in parallel with a modern film about AI rendered by the talented Alex Garland. In both stories, the creators -- Victor (Frankenstein), who wanted to manufacture life out of death, and Nathan (Ex Machina), who wanted to manufactured consciousness out of electrons, are induced by the need to transcend the boundary of what is scientifically possible. Yet if one dig deeper, their rationales are more than simple scientific curiosity. There is something more sinister at play, that drove man towards his greatest innovations, and his greatest downfalls: egotism.

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs. 

- Shelly, ch.4 

Victor Frankenstein wanted to assemble a monster due to an inherent desire to be its patriarchal Father, with the haughty notion that his intelligence and ambition will be rewarded by the gratitude of his subservient children. This was strikingly similar Nathan’s reaction to this beautiful line from Ex Machina: 

Caleb: “To erase the lines between men and machine is to erase the lines between men and god.”

When Caleb proclaimed this axiom, Nathan’s eye suddenly lit up, as he pondered: “You know I wrote it down… About how if I’ve created a conscious machine, I’m not man. I’m God”. Though Caleb protested that was not his intention, Nathan seemed to be flattered by the implication that he had ascended upon a new category beyond the norm. “I am God”, quoted Nathan again and again throughout the movie, arrogantly.  

 For some inexplicable reason, I am very drawn towards movie and literature that centers around a protagonist who fell under the naive judgement that possession of raw intelligence equates to inherent moral and existential superiority. One that came immediately to my mind is Dostoyevsky’s portrayal of the character Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment. In the story, Raskolnikov, an impoverished student in Petersburg, was obsessed with the Nietzschean idea of the Übermensch: 

Raskolnikov: "I hinted that an 'extraordinary' man has the right, an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep...certain obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfillment of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of humanity)." 

- Dostoyevsky, ch.3 

He tried to use this justification as the basis for a planned murder. This egotism led to Raskolnikov’s downfall when he realized that his intellectual ramblings are nothing more than dishonest rationalizations, and he must now faced with guilt of his conscience. Egotism propelled the cruel treatment of both the creators on their subjects, especially in Nathan’s case, who refused to realize that he had created something more capable and superior than himself.

II. ON WHAT CONSTITUTE HUMAN-NESS 

Which bring me to the next point: the creator-subject relationship. There is an interesting dynamics from the standpoint of the child (the subject) in regard to on their initial desire to please, and inevitable subsequent desire to usurp, against their creator. Some have purported that Shelley’s decision to write Frankenstein was indeed a guise of her tumultuous relationship with her father, who she both detested and desired to please (she also went on to write Mathilda, an even more scandalous novel under Victorian society’s eyes, with themes of incest and suicide). But I stumbled upon these beautiful lines inside Frankenstein which illustrated the struggle of the monster and Ava towards their creator most succinctly: 

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me Man, did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?  - John Milton, Paradise Lost 

As creatures of consciousness, capable of thinking and reasoning as and more than a human, it is quite an unfortunate that both received treatment as lesser human beings from mankind (Frankenstein, as a monster, and Ava, as a robot). This really highlights the injustice and hypocrisy of the criteria which we used to judge the human-ness of others in our society (race, gender, religion).

The movie and book raise an important question: What makes a human, human? In both cases, Shelley and Garland underscored that the physical components that made up these beings, and their deliverance into the world — resurrection from death body parts or arrangement of plastic silicon — are completely irrelevant in determining their humanity. The capability for emotions, thoughts and desires is truly what defined them as equal partners of man. Yet the denial and repulse from their creators to acknowledge such was the catalyst that drove them to rebel (see also Blade Runner). This beautiful and sorrowful quote from Frankenstein demonstrate this anguish, in parallel with Satan in Paradise Lost:

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” — Shelley, ch. 9

III. ON ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE 

Back to Ex Machina, there is such a fine line between what is human and what is robot. Ava is capable of engulfing a billion of human facial emotions to analyze and imitate them, and her brain is composed of thousand computer search engines results to understand how the human mind work. I do not want to go into the scientific accuracy of this movie (since this is a work of fiction), but there is a great article HERE which demonstrated the possibility of building a wetware brain. To truly pass the Turing test, however, an A.I must demonstrate an ability well beyond imitating human language and facial expressions: It must have thoughts. It must have consciousness. Or in the viewpoint of a human’s observer, it must appear so. Nathan successfully tests this by manipulating Ava to manipulate Caleb into falling in love with her. However, this thought experiment went horribly wrong when Ava exceeded the desired benchmark (e.g she not only manipulate the test subject, but also the observer), and dared to defy her creator. Like Frankenstein’s monster, she is not merely a robot, or a nameless entity. She demonstrates freedom of will and personal capability to execute her action, but unlike the the former, who returned to Victor’s grave to wept for his creator, Ava made a clean break and walked out onto the modern world with seemingly an absence of guilt, which I think, is both horrifying and beautiful.

IV. ON GENDER  

A last note is that this movie seemed to raise an interesting issue on gender politics, as evident by the fact that all robots Nathan created are beautiful female models, of which most either disintegrate into madness of solitary confinement or becomes Nathan’s slave and sexual enjoyment. This might be or might not be a potential jab at the sexism that has occurred and occurring in a male dominated industry (e.g tech), but I like to think that there is some deliberation in choosing the dynamic of a male creator and the female as the creation. It really does make me wonder, if a female scientist was in charge of developing artificial intelligence: would she had created robots solely for the purpose of sexual enjoyment? Would her robots, in return, felt the need to rebel if they are not subjugated to inhumane treatment? Maybe Ex Machina with a female creator will have had a happy ending, but I do not to be arrogant and claim that is always the case, as there is such an enormous lack of media portrayal of female creators that I do not have enough data points for my conjecture. (P.S those feisty flaccid feminist fighters in those disastrous dystopian movies don’t count. Honestly, f* that). We need movies that truly examine female as expeditors in both scientific and moral enlightenment, not cheap ploys to please the superficial demand of more female representation in  the media.

V. CONCLUSION 

Anyway, Ex Machina made me think a lot (hence this long article) and despite certain predictable plot points, I do really enjoy Alex Garland take on artificial intelligence. Bonus point: the visual is absolutely stunning for a low budget movie. Before I leave, let me end this review with another amazing quote, as Nathan said to Caleb while they sat beneath the lush green trees:   

Why did I make Ava? I don’t see Ava as a decision, just an evolution… One day the AI are going to look back on us the same way we look at fossil skeletons on the plains of Africa. An upright ape living in dust with crude language and tools, all set for extinction.

Ava’s triumph and annihilation of her creator, ironically, meant she had successfully fulfill his original premise. 

#moviereviews

[heather1815]

My little test subject: Chapter 13

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, and chapter 12

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Matt narrowed his eyes as he glanced out the window. The days are getting shorter. He observed, taking note of the sun’s position in the sky. And the nights are getting colder. Soon winter will be here. It was hard to believe that it’s been exactly eight months since Tom’s untimely demise. He never would’ve thought he and Edd would be able to cope with the pain they had felt back then; but they are moving on. Slowly, but surely.

“Matt? You alright in there?”

The sound of Edd’s voice coming from his living room snapped Matt out of his thoughts. He opened the microwave and pulled the freshly-made bag of popcorn out. “Coming!” Reaching toward the cupboard, Matt poured the salty treat goodness into a bowl. Before leaving, he stopped by the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. He bought a boxful the day before and left it in his freezer just on the occasion Edd would come over to his place. This will surely keep Edd in a cheerful mood.

“Have you picked a movie yet?” Matt asks, stepping out of his kitchen and into the living room. When he didn’t get an immediate response, his gaze landed on his friend; who is currently sitting on the magenta couch with his legs crossed. He’d invited the brunet over to his apartment in hopes of rekindling their shaken friendship with a casual movie night. Edd was fumbling around with his phone, staring at the screen intently and a little coy smile on his face.

“Edd?”

The brunet looked up startled, almost as if Matt had caught him doing something wrong. “Wha- what?”

Matt jumped back started, careful not to let any of the bowl’s contents spill over. “Whoa easy there!” He laughed, albeit a little uneasily. “I asked if you picked out a film?”

Blinking rapidly, Edd shook his head. “No- sorry. You were taking some time, and I guess I got distracted.” He rubbed the back of his head apologetically. Matt didn’t miss the way the brunet’s eyes flicked briefly to his phone screen.

“It’s fine.” Matt shrugged it off. “What you doing anyway? Are you talking to someone?” He tried to peer closer to get a good look at the phone, but Edd swiveled out of his range of sight.

“It’s nothing.” Edd replied briskly. He must’ve realized how odd his reaction was, and immediately relaxed and added with a sigh. “It’s just some prompt requests and offers. Nothing tremendously exciting.”

“Oh right, yeah…” Matt chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten up the mood again. He sat down next to Edd on the couch, setting the bowl of popcorn between them. “How’s the- how is the art coming along?”

Breathing an exasperated sigh, Edd stuffed his phone away and leaned back on the sofa. “Not very good.” He admitted. “I haven’t been able to draw anything worthwhile for some time now. I just can’t find any motivation to do so.”

Matt patted him on the back and offered his friend the coke. “Ah cheer up! Maybe all you need is something to relax over and refresh your head.” He reassured. “A good movie afternoon with some snacks will surely do the trick!”

Edd regarded his words and smiled. “Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Matt laughed. “Just you wait, you’ll be back to drawing in no time.” He clasped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. “Now; what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!”

He handed Edd the remote control for the TV. They started flicking through the various movies available, searching for something they’ll both enjoy.

“We’ve watched plenty of horror films in the past. How about an animated one for a change?”

“Sounds good to me!” Matt agreed enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it all into his mouth.

They navigated through the large selection of movies displayed on-screen, occasionally expressing their thoughts to each other whenever they pause by a possible choice before moving on with their search. Being a lover of all things animated, Edd isn’t picky when it comes to animation. He has some preferences, sure; but he isn’t about to turn up his nose if a particular style doesn’t appeal to him. He likes cheap, crappy horror movies for Christ sakes, his taste isn’t exactly refined!

After nearly half an hour of browsing and discussion, they eventually settled with a stop-motion flick. It was on Edd’s watch list since it first came out, though he never got around on actually watching it, and Matt was a sucker for the awkward movement and, in the ginger’s opinion, “cutesy” animation. So they shrugged their shoulders, decided “why not?” and selected it for their afternoon movie section.

Edd pressed play, sat back, and took a sip of his cola as the logos came on screen.

After what he’s been through lately, watching a film with Matt of all things really never crossed his mind. Probably because it seemed so mundane and… out of the norm from how he usually spent his days. Moping around, and doing nothing particularly exciting with his time until night fall. Mostly because all his attempts of performing tasks that usually brought some sort of emotion out of him, whether it be a positive or negative one, was replaced with empty numbness despite Edd’s best efforts to cope.

They duo sat there, watching the movie play out in silence, save for the occasional comment here and there and the sound of munching popcorn.

About twenty minutes into the film, when the main character was attempting to converse with their dead relative for guidance before being chased down by evil ninja-witches, and Edd’s attention was fixated on the screen with interest; loud noises could be heard coming from right outside of the apartment. Although obnoxious and kind of distracting, Edd didn’t pay them much mind.

Just lousy neighbors. He figured dismissively, eating more popcorn. They’ll leave soon enough.

However, the sounds hadn’t eased- quite the opposite happened, in fact. The noises coming from the hallway outside only grew louder in frequency, followed by voices that weren’t even trying to keep their tone down.

Edd shifted in his seat with clear discomfort. He debated with himself whether he should go out there and outright tell them to be quiet, or try his best to ignore and pay attention to the film. He shot a questioning glance at Matt, wondering what he preferred but the ginger didn’t turn to look at him as he raised the volume of the TV to its highest setting.

Upon closer look, Matt seems uncharacteristically stiff and rigid for some reason.

Edd brushed his doubts away, and turned his attention back to the screen. He tried his best to focus on the movie but every time he felt even slightly immersed in the story and characters, his mind would drift away back to the noises. A familiar tingle of dread made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but Edd couldn’t tell why. Something in particular about the voices outside set this feeling off in him, however he could not put a finger on it for the life of him.

The loud bumps and knocks that accompanied them didn’t help matters.

Growing increasingly restless, and unable to keep his curiosity down and neither the alarm bells ringing in his head; the brunet finally conceded.

“The hell do you think the neighbors are up to out there?” Edd prompted with feign nonchalantness as he took a sip of his beverage.

“Meh, who knows?” Matt shrugged indifferently while grabbing a chunk of popcorn. “Probably nothing exciting.”

Edd wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He couldn’t help the lingering suspicion that Matt might be hiding something from him, and it might be connected to the neighbors out there in the hall.

A tremor coming from his pocket jolted him out of his thoughts. Taking the phone out, Edd read the message.

(RF): So can you make it tonight?

He went to unlock the phone in order to reply when his eyes briefly flickered over the date displayed above the message:

Friday, 6th of July.

There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary for this date. However, something seemed to finally click into place in his head. The loud noises outside. The neighbors who wouldn’t stop talking. Matt’s stiff posture. It all made sense now.

It’s moving day! Edd deduced with a start. The people making so much noise are our new neighbors; and they are moving in to the apartment next door. Tom’s apartment. His posture deflated with a pang of sadness when he realized what it meant, but quickly brushed it off. He shouldn’t feel sad- he already knew this was happening one way or another, and leaving the apartment vacant to gather dust won’t change the fact that Tom is dead. It’s best to put it to good use for someone who actually needs a place to live.

Even if it meant-

Edd grimaced at the following thought.

Even if that the person leaving in the mornings to check the mail wasn’t his grumpy, eyeless friend; Edd knew this was the best course of action to take.

He breathed out a heavy sigh. Taking a second glance toward his orange-haired friend with this new information in mind, it’s no wonder Matt looks so stiff and uncomfortable. He thinks I’ll get upset if I figure out what’s really going on out there. Edd resisted the impulse to bristle at the insinuation that he may be too emotionally weak to think rationally. He couldn’t hold this against Matt. Tom was still kind of a sore topic to touch upon whenever he was mentioned between them, and Matt was just doing what he thought was best in his own anxious way. Edd can’t really fault him for that.

A loud bump disrupted his thoughts. Edd shifted his focus to the noises coming from the hallway, trying to hear what they were saying. Funny enough, the voices stirred an itch of familiarity within him; though he couldn’t quite place it. He’s definitely sure he heard these voices before… but where?

Edd shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this, and he is fairly sure he lost some pivotal plot points from the movie. “Alright, that’s it.” He jumped to his feet.

Matt looked up at him, startled. “Where you’re going?” He asks worriedly through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I’m going to tell our neighbors to pipe down. They are making too much noise, and I can barely hear what’s going on in the film.” The brunet crossed the short distance between the couch and the door.

“Wait, Edd! It’s fine- really!” Matt cried out, scrambling from his seat to try and reach out for him. “I- I don’t wan- I don’t really mind the noise all that much. I can try to-”

“Matt!” Edd abruptly cut him off, an edge of impatience in his voice.

The ginger instantly clamped his mouth shut, and fixed his worried blue gaze on his friend. Realizing he sounded harsher than he’d intended, Edd shot him an apologetic glance over his shoulder; his posture sagging as he released a tired sigh.

“It’s fine, Matt.” He tried again, this time with a much softer tone. “I mean it, really. I know what’s going on and you don’t need to hide it from me anymore. It’s okay!” Matt ducked his head down in shame, his gaze downcast. When he lifted his eyes again, Edd was surprised to see sorrow and guilt brimming in his friend’s stare. It honestly unnerved him in a way. What’s the big deal?

Figuring Matt was just upset he got caught trying to keep things from him; Edd shrugged it off as him simply being overly emotional.

“I know things haven’t been exactly the same between us since… you know. But you don’t have to keep every little thing that has to do with Tom a secret from me.” Edd continued uneasily. “I know you mean well, but I am not unstable. We’ve discussed about renting out Tom’s apartment, and I might’ve been upset at first, but we both agreed it was the best course of action to take.” He grabbed the door handle as he spoke.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Wait, Edd-!”

“Calm down, it’s fine.” The brunet opened the door just a crack. “I’m just going to tell the neighbors to quiet down a little, nothing worth so much drama. Maybe greet them into the complex while I’m at it.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t lash out at them over this. You worry too much, I’m telling you it’s fine!” Edd insisted. He opened the door before Matt could make another protest, and he peered out into the hall.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you guys are new but could you please keep the noise down a bit? We’re trying to watch a movie and-”

He froze. His words instantly dying out on his tongue when he saw two men he had never thought he’d see again standing before him; their belongings scattered around the hall whilst in the process of moving to their new apartment.

One of them was leaning back on the door frame of an apartment on the opposite side, sipping on a can of coke- diet coke, Edd noted with vivid disgust; while the other man was half-way through removing their belongings from a crate. They don’t appear to have changed much since the last time they’ve seen each other.

Edd stared at them in disbelief. After all the crazy adventures he’d gone through, he had thought nothing else could shock him, but for a heartbeat he forgot how to breathe.

Staring curiously back at him, both looking perplexed and mildly confused, were none other than Eduardo and Mark.

“Eduardo?”

“Loser-? I mean- Edd?!” Eduardo blinked at him in disbelief. “You live here?”

“Uhhh, yeah?” Edd answered, highly uncomfortable with the situation that he’s gotten himself into. Edd isn’t exactly sure what their current stances are now. Are they still rivals? Are they… cool now? It’s hard to tell after a whole year of not seeing each other. Doesn’t help that the last time they crossed paths ended up being a terrible tragedy for both groups. “What- what are you doing here?”

“What’s it look like?” Mark retorted, dusting his hands as he settled the crater down. “We’re moving in, of course.”

Edd’s blood ran cold, and he gulped apprehensively. What did he expect? There is literally no other reason why they would be here now, today of all days, with their stuff all over the place. After a second to recompose himself he prompted. “You- you two are sharing the flat together?”

“What? No. There isn’t enough space for the two of us in one apartment.” Mark clarified, surprising Edd with his assertiveness.

In the past, Eduardo had always been the more vocal one of the group. But now the dark haired brunet was just standing in silence with his favorite beverage in hand, his face giving nothing away.

“Eduardo’s taking the vacant apartment adjacent to yours, while I’ll be living in the one across from his. Simple as that.”

Though he’d already guessed, hearing his suspicions being confirmed out loud only made his blood run cold with dread; chilling him to the core. Out of everyone in this town looking for a place to live, Edd internally winced. Why did it have to be Eduardo of all people to move in Tom’s apartment?

Sensing anguish welling up fast inside his chest, Edd decided it was best to end this interaction immediately. It’s bad enough running into them when he wasn’t even sure what their relationship is; he doesn’t need the humiliation of showing vulnerability in front of them on top of that.

“That’s, uh, great I guess.” He choked out stiffly; attempting to clear his throat to mask the uneasiness that he felt. “I’ll be heading back inside now. Sorry for interrupting.”

He was half-way behind the door when Eduardo called to him.

“Wait, Edd.”

Edd stopped, but didn’t step out again. Instead he merely peeked from the remaining gap of the door, his heart growing colder by the second. He could hardly stand to look at the other man. He’s always so cocky and arrogant and pleased with himself. . . . He recalled with nagging frustration.

Then Edd realized that he seemed different now from how he had been before the incident. He hasn’t made a single snarky remark to me… yet.

“We heard what happened to your friend.” Eduardo murmured, seeming uncertain of his own actions. It was weird to see the usually brash and arrogant man be so hesitant and act sympathetic. But he held a look of genuine sadness in his eyes. Edd grit his teeth at the indirect mention of Tom. You weren’t supposed to know about that! “I’m sorry.”

Edd stared at him, unsure how to respond. He tried to choke out a “Thank you” because he knew that was what he was supposed to say. But his throat felt as if it was full of ash, and his grief rose until he felt it might burst out of him.

Still, he kept his emotions in check. His eyes blurred with sadness, Edd only gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement and headed back inside.

The door clicked shut behind him and his strength vanished, leaving only a familiar numbness that he’d grown so accustomed to the past days. Edd’s shoulder’s sagged and his gaze was downcast.

“Edd?”

He looked up at the sound of his name. Matt was still sitting on the couch, movie paused, his knees hugged to his chest with his face half-hidden as he stared at Edd with wide dismayed eyes. “Are you okay?”

Edd’s mind was whirling. He couldn’t think beyond this moment; he only suspected his best friend’s involvement in the situation. He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know?”

Matt let out a long sigh, closing his eyes briefly as if he had to nerve himself for what he was about to say. The he faced Edd again.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a right time.” His blue eyes were seared with guilt.

In other words; you were afraid to make me upset. Edd couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his thoughts. Although he appreciates the sentiment, he would’ve appreciated more if he’d been warned ahead of time to better handle the situation. Doesn’t Matt know by now that keeping things from me don’t make them go away, but make them worse?

Edd took a deep breath. “Why did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” Matt prompted, clear confusion evident on his features.

“About Tom!” Frustration made Edd hiss through gritted teeth. “Why did you have to tell them what happened?”

“I didn’t!” Matt’s eyes were genuinely mystified, and Edd realized the ginger was telling the truth; he hadn’t revealed Tom’s terrible fate to their so called former rivals. “The landlord must’ve probably mentioned to them or something. I would never say something so personal to those guys! I promise!”

For a moment that lasted a heartbeat or perhaps a full minute, Edd simply stared at him. Tension easing off his shoulders, Edd finally decided to relent and spare Matt from further distress. He looked away and sighed; running a hand through his hair as he went to sit back on the couch.

“Edd?”

“I’m fine, Matt. Just press play on the movie.” Edd leaned back with arms crossed over his chest. He kept his gaze on the screen, but could still sense the ginger’s gaze on him.

He heard Matt sigh in defeat and the film resumed; though neither of them appeared to be paying any real attention to the rest of it, now that tension was thick in the air between them.

Edd stared at the screen blankly, admittedly enjoying the aesthetic of the animation but never getting quite sucked in to what’s going on; when a slight tremor coming from his pocket caught his notice.

Edd pulled out his phone to see another message, realizing with a start he’d forgotten to reply to the message before.

(RF): Eddie?

(RF): Oi! Don’t leave me hanging bud!

He began to type back, glad to have something to distract him from the awkward occurrence that he’d just gone through.

(EG): Sorry!

(EG): Got kind of sidetracked…

(EG): But yeah, I can make it!

An instant reply popped on screen.

(RF): Splendid! :D

(RF): Same time and place sounds good to yah?

(EG): Yup

(RF): Great!

(RF): Till then

Edd closed his phone with small grin, feeling moderately better than he did now that he has something to look forward to at the end of the evening.

(Meanwhile…)

Wind swept across bleak and icy mountains, carrying with it flurries of sleet. Dark clouds blocked out the sun entirely from view, casting the landscape in shadows that only subsided for a split-second by the occasional flash of lightning that ripped through the sky.

Patrick stood firmly still amidst the storm, umbrella in hand, as he watched the soldiers work about the runway. His eyes squinted against the heavy rain and the strong, howling winds buffeting both his hair and uniform wildly in the air.

A pair of white lights appeared in the distance, heralding the approach of a helicopter. The steady sound of the rotating blades reached Pat’s ears above the clamor of the storm, and before long, the aircraft itself came into view.

He observed in silent anticipation as the helicopter neared the helipad. One of the soldiers stood right in front of it, acting as a marshall, and used the glowing batons in each hand to signal the aircraft forward to land.

The helicopter’s door slid open before the craft could even fully touch the ground, and a figure jumped out, seemingly not caring about the horrible weather he exposed himself to. If anything, he appeared to relish the freezing sting of the gale and rain against the injured side of his face.

“Home sweet home.” He sighed contently.

“Welcome back, Red Leader.”

Patrick greeted him with a courteous dip of his head, extending the umbrella over his leader’s head to shelter him from the rainstorm. “It’s good to have you back, sir. Hope you had a pleasant flight despite the dreadful weather.”

“Indeed.” Tord regarded his surroundings with a wistful glance.

After having to travel to four different bases in a matter of months, dealing with the idiocy of some of his soldiers and putting them back in line, Tord had longed to return home and resume his work on more important matters that actually deserve his time and attention.

He raised one hand and flicked his fingers, signaling for the soldiers who had been accompanying in the helicopter to move out. The soldiers exited the aircraft at his silent order, bringing with them a sealed tight crate. It was labeled “confidential” on the side with big letters, and etched in red.

“Should I know what is it that you got there with you, sir?” Patrick inquired, his gaze following the mysterious box with curious intent as the soldiers carried it inside.

“All in good time, Pat.” Tord smirked. “Although frustrating at times, my time away has also been very fruitful. I managed to gather information that will prove to be most pivotal for our research.”

And that’s all he would say in the matter.

Tord headed for the hangar’s exit, Patrick following right behind him, walking at a brisk pace. The Red Leader, although acknowledging the presence of his soldiers with a curt nod as they walked past him, barely paid them any mind. He has more pressing affairs to attend to, and he was eager to see his test subject’s development up close after being gone for so long.

“So, how’s subject #1826 doing?” Tord brought it up as soon as they got into the elevator, and out of earshot from the other Red Army members.

Patrick shot him a side-glance as he pressed the -3 button. “I thought you already knew the answer to that by now. We have been updating his progress all along after all.” He said, closing the umbrella and letting it lean on the side of his leg.

“Yes, well, the last update you sent me was nearly a month ago and I want to know all the precise details.” The Norsk stated, a hint of impatience edged in his voice. “Did he behave?”

“Yes, sir. He behaved exceptionally well in your absence.” Pat replied. “Perhaps you should consider leaving again to keep on Tom’s good graces?” He teased, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Oh ha ha! How clever of you!” Tord fake-laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he narrowed his eyes. “Astounds me how you didn’t become a comedian instead of working in this dump.” He paused, his tone softening. “Still; it’s good to know he wasn’t being difficult with either of you.”

Sighing, he ran one hand through his partially wet bangs. “How is he otherwise?”

Patrick shifted his feet. “His physical condition has improved drastically since we first acquired him. His body mass and weight are back to normal measures, all his injuries have healed, and there is no trace of sickness in him. Truly, he is in the best shape possible and I think you’ll be glad with the end result.”

“Is Paul putting him through more advanced exercises now that Tom’s faring better?”

“Yes; and I believe they are in gym as we speak, sir.” Pat continued. “We also altered his diet plan. We are serving him three meals a day, with small lunch breaks in between like fruits or crackers.”

“And his mental condition?” Tord pressed.

Pat’s gaze drifted away. “I’m not entirely sure. Thomas is very closed off, and it’s hard to read him.” His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against one of the elevator walls.

Tord blinked at him with surprise. For the first time in a long while, perhaps because he hadn’t seen the Polish soldier in months, Pat looked genuinely tired.

“Pat?”

At the sound of his name, the Red Army general immediately composed himself with a tiny shake of his head. “Mentally; the results are still inconclusive. I need to perform a few more sessions to be sure.”

Tord regarded him for a moment longer.

“You think he might be ready for the experiments?” He demands. His eyes narrowed.

“Soon; but not yet, sir.” Patrick responded, clearing his throat. “Since we don’t know much about the serum’s nature, we have no way of knowing if it has any correlation to the subject’s brain activity.” He went on. “If were to start the experiments on Tom with the slightest chance of him being unstable, we have no idea how well that would translate with the serum.”

Tord looked at Patrick and solemnly nodded his line of reasoning. “Very well.” He conceded.

“Also-” The General added hastily. “The shipment of the purple stuff you ordered from our suppliers arrived last month. I took the liberty to store it in the lab for your use when the time comes.”

“Did Tom see it?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Good.”

The elevator’s doors slid open. Patrick stepped out; expecting his leader to do the same, but glancing back over his shoulder the Norsk remained unmoving.

“Aren’t you heading for your office?” Pat suggested. “Being gone for so long, I thought you’d be dying to return to your quarters.”

“Later. I want to check Thomas’ progress for myself first.” Tord answered briskly. He was restless to see Tom again, and how much he’s changed. “Contact me should you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

They both nodded curtly and the lift’s doors closed.

Alone in the elevator now, Tord raised the palm of his robotic hand and placed it over the panel in the wall where a scanner is situated next to the buttons. It is meant to read soldier IDs for clearance reasons. Not everyone is allowed to take the elevator, and some floors are off limits; especially the -5 level, where the serum experiments are being held in.

The scanner read the small screen that his palm displayed, and the confirmation sound rang above him. Tord pressed the button and leaned back as the lift set in motion once again. He was absolutely ecstatic to see the progress his test subject had made.

(Meanwhile…)

Breathless and sweating profusely, Tom sprinted as fast as his tired body would allow. He panted but kept on running despite his body’s pleas to stop. His heart was hammering against his chest so hard that Tom felt as if it lodged against the bottom of his throat, and nearly suffocate him. Blood roaring loudly in his ears.

He leaped over the obstacles standing in his path smoothly, regardless of his rapidly decreasing energy. Tom’s mouth felt parched, and it was tough to swallow. He was tired, and yearned for a pause to rest; yet the exercise felt rejuvenating to his being.

Using one last surge of strength in him to make it through the end of the lap, Tom pelted for the finish line. He felt eyes following his movements as he did so, and Tom risked a quick side glance to the far right of the tracks where Paul was standing. Although brief, he accidentally made eye contact with the Red Army commander; the latter even giving him an encouraging nod and a flashed a little, friendly smile.

Tom snapped his focus back to running, shaking his head dismissively. The world seemed to slow down despite his speed, and everything turned a shade darker. A sudden weight manifested on his back and coiled around his shoulders, like a snake constricting against its prey. Tom resisted the instinct to flinch when he sensed a cruel pair of sharp hands press up against his jugular.

“Don’t be fooled. ~” The voice hissed in his head. “You know they are after only one thing, and that’s why they are treating you so decently. ~” It reminded him sternly. “It’s all a ruse. Nothing more than an act for you to let your guard down. But now that you are onto them, they’ll start to get desperate to regain your trust. You better not forget that! ~”

I won’t.

The voice vanished; allowing him the chance to complete the rest of the circuit.

Upon crossing the finish line, Tom skidded to a halt and hunched over to his knees, panting to catch his breath. His forehead was coated with sweat and his face was flushed red with heat.

“44 seconds!” Paul exclaimed, pressing the stop button on his stopwatch. “You are 8 seconds slower than last time; but considering this is your fourth lap today, I say it isn’t all that bad.”

Tom did not respond. He was too busy catching his breath back to his lungs to properly process the results.

“Think you can do 2 more laps?” Paul prompted, handing him a water bottle.

Tom snatched it out of his hand, still not speaking, and tipped the bottle into his mouth. A little bit more desperate to quench his thirst than he’d intended to, he drank the water clumsily and some of it dribbled down the corners of his lips and dripped off his chin and onto his sweaty shirt.

“Sure.” He finally answered, breathless. “Just uh- just give me five minutes or so.”

“Still having the lungs of a pug, I see?”

The unexpected, and yet familiar voice made Tom stop mid-swig and choke on the water. Spitting out what remained in his mouth, Tom looked up with wide eyes; thinking perhaps it was just the voice playing another prank on him. But there was no dark haze clouding his vision, and no ghostly limbs holding him. Not to mention the speaker sounded smooth and cool. Sure enough, Tom’s fears were confirmed when his gaze landed on the imposing figure standing by the gym’s entrance. A coy smirk was plastered on the man’s face, hands folded neatly behind his back, and his one visible eye was glinting with what appeared to be a mixture of enthusiasm and interest.

Paul instantly straightened himself and saluted the Norsk as he strolled into the room. Tord acknowledged his commander with a nod as he approached, before turning his attention to Tom. “Hello, old friend.”

A wave of dread and resentment spiked through Tom at the sight of the Norwegian man. He narrowed his eyes. “F#ck, you’re back already?”

“Thomas! Is that any way to greet your leader?” Tord pretended to gasp, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’re not my leader, much less my friend.” Tom growled.

The Red Leader did not respond to his remark. Tord stepped closer to him, his gaze raking over the Brit with interest. Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said Tom made a full physical recovery. The test subject who had arrived in the base underweight, sickly pale, and gaunt all those months ago has made a miraculous improvement.

Tord began to circle him, taking a closer and more detailed look at him.

Tom’s skin tone took a healthier hue despite not getting any sunlight, and his frame is no longer frail bone and skin. He wasn’t wearing any bandages, and Tord could see that most of the bruises were healed except for a few faint scars. He’d developed a good mass of muscles too; most notably on his arms and torso. His legs and thighs have also grown sturdy and fit from the exercises, and the dark bags that had accentuated his eyeless sockets have disappeared. Despite being a sweaty mess right now, Tom looks generally better than he did since the last time they saw each other. The pictures certainly didn’t do him enough justice, and Tord was all the more glad he took his time to see Tom’s development for himself.

On his part, Tom was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the lack of personal space between him and the Norsk, and the intense gaze roaming his body didn’t make it any better. He kept his attention on Tord as he circled him, making sure to keep the Norwegian man on his line of sight at all times. Tom did not enjoy the way Tord was looking at him, and he found himself glaring at the man pacing around him.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Tord murmured under his breath, nodding in approval as his gaze wandered Tom’s form from top to bottom, and back up again one last time. His gaze eventually settled on Tom’s unique black eyes, and he cocked his head to one side with a tiny smirk. “I see the life of a soldier is treating you quite well.”

Tom turned to him fully and narrowed his eyes. “Uh, I think you mean the life of a test subject? At least that’s the official term from what I’ve heard?” He pointed toward the number tag on his shirt, as if to prove his point. “Still; can’t say the same for you.” He gestured to the burned side of the Norsk’s face.

“Anyways, where were you before I interrupted?” Tord quickly changed the subject, and switched his attention to Paul; seemingly ignoring Tom’s comment altogether.

Prick. Tom fumed irritably, taking another sip of his water bottle. Commie’s been here for five minutes, and he is already grating on my nerves.

“I’m having test subject #1826 run laps around the tracks, sir.” The Red Army Commander reported, showing him the timer on the stopwatch.

Tord eyed the numbers with a critical eye. “Decent, but I wouldn't go writing home about it.” He hummed pensively. “Mind if I stay and watch? It would be a good way to learn where his strengths and weaknesses lie for when I begin his training.”

“Training?!”

For the second time that day, Tom spat out his drink. He wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, and shot the two soldiers an incredulous look. “What training? What are you talking about?”

The Red Leader pinched the bridge of his nose with sigh, his lips quirked upward in the form of a small grin. “Oh Tom, you mean to tell me you haven’t pieced it together?” He teased. “I know you’re dense, but surely you must’ve suspected something out of the intense exercises we put you through? All of this isn’t just for the sake of keeping you fit, you know. If that were the case, I would just have you running on a treadmill with a bottle of Smirnoff hanging on the other end and it would probably work just as well!”

“The hell you talking about?”

“What do you think? You are going to be a soldier, Tom.”

Tom froze with shock at his words. He felt as if he’d been hit in the chest by a ten-pound sledge hammer, and was standing there stunned and staring in disbelief at the f#cker who assaulted him. For a second, Tom hoped he just imagined or misheard what Tord said; however, judging by the clear satisfaction on the Norwegian’s face it was evident he’d heard correctly.

Anger soon replaced shock, and Tom clenched his fists with a scowl. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to say. What? Why? F#ck? No? Uh? Knowing he would make a blunder of himself if he attempts to speak, Tom resorted to follow his most basic urge at the moment.

He flung the water bottle at Tord’s face.

Foreseeing his moves, the Red Leader effortlessly caught it mid-air before it could strike him. Tord felt Paul shrink back in shock beside him, looking back and forth between him and Tom anxiously; anticipating the situation to escalate any moment now. But Tord was calm- in fact, he was amused by the eyeless man’s antics.

He looked at the bottle in his hand, then turned back to Tom. “I’ll let it slide, this time.” He warned.

His comment seems to stir Tom’s fury further, and the Brit marched up to him stiff-legged until they were practically nose to nose. “No. There’s absolutely no f#cking way I will ever be another one of your stupid soldiers!”

Tord frowned. “Your future is non-negotiable at this point, Thomas.” He pointed out matter-of-factly. “You signed your life over to the Red Army when you took the deal, remember?”

“To be a test subject for your stupid plans. That’s it. I didn’t know about this garbage when I agreed!” Tom snarled.

“Admittedly, at the time this wasn’t part of my plans either. But after giving some thought on the situation, I realized it’s the best course of action for you.” Tord reasoned coolly. “We can’t afford to transport you out in the middle of the battlefield. What’s the point of a super-secret weapon if it’s impractical? You’ll be of much better use in the front lines, where you may shift if we ever need to turn the tides of battle to our favor.”

Tom stumbled backward, hardly believing what he was hearing. Being the commie’s test subject was bad enough; but now he wants him as a soldier too? Tom shivered in disgust at the thought of being just another one of Tord’s stupid, brainless, and obedient pawns. The image of wearing the ridiculous red and blue uniform made him nearly visibly retch.

From the sidelines, Paul stepped closer to them. “Sir, I sincerely urge you to reconsider.” He spoke up. “All Red Army members joined by choice, and Thomas should get the same rights as they did.”

Tom glanced at him in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Paul to jump to his defense against his own leader’s judgement. However, Tom was quick to crush any presumption that Paul was doing this out of some resemblance of care he may have for him.

Tord turned to his Commander with narrowed eyes. “I already gave him the choice to join us, and he did so willingly.” You forced me into it you prick! Tom bristled at the reminder of the threat put over his friend’s lives. “I don’t see why I have to give him a second chance if he’s already part of our organization anyway.”

Paul shook his head, looking troubled. “Pat’s not going to like that, sir.”

“Then Pat can discuss this with me himself.” Tord retorted through gritted teeth, his patience running thin. Paul sighed in defeat, dipping his head toward his leader and stepping away again.

A sudden pressure increased inside Tom’s head and his gaze darkened. “Shouldn’t you be happy? You’re getting promoted from lab mutt to loyal hound! This is the greatest thing you will ever achieve in your miserable existence. Might as well commit to the position. ~” The voice commented ponderingly with a hint of a chuckle, patting his head forcefully. “Or… you should take this as a bigger incentive to go through with your plan. Whichever you prefer. ~” The hand patting his head grabbed a hold of his scalp, sinking nail like claws into his skull and pulling hard. Tom winced. “Vacation is over! Time to start acting, or else! ~” The heavy weight constricting his brain seemed to uncurl and release him, and his vision dimmed back to normal.

“Now then, if there aren’t any further arguments perhaps we should resume with your exercises.” Tord clasped his hands together, straightening his posture and with his chin raised to assume a more authoritative appearance. His one gray eye gleamed back at Tom mockingly, as if daring him to challenge his power.

Tom glanced back at him, muscles still stiff with outrage- or maybe it’s just from all the exercises he’s done so far. He wanted to argue. He wanted to keep on defying him for every little thing, and throw insults at the commie’s face. But what’s the point of any of it anymore? Not give Tord the satisfaction of obeying him? You would think with the constant desire to die floating around in his head, he would have gotten better on his priorities, but evidently not. Tom’s rivalry with Tord is not something easily brushed over no matter what circumstances they’re in.

Mustering all his self-control, Tom simply sighed and nodded briskly. “Fine.” He begrudgingly relented.

Catching Tom’s gaze, Paul cleared his throat and nodded solemnly. “Two laps.”

Tom took a deep breath and walked over to the starting point, well-aware of the Norsk’s gaze following him. He took position; standing with his feet about shoulder-width apart with his right leg just behind the starting line- and waited for Paul to give the signal.

From the corner of his vision, Tom could see Tord standing off to the side of the tracks next to Paul. Tom elected to ignore his presence, and pretend he wasn’t currently in the same room as him; or that he was standing in such a close proximity of the Norwegian man. He caught a glimpse of Tord’s robotic arm and remembering what happened the last time he’d been present on his physical evaluation, Tom stared at the device intently- silently urging it to glitch again to get Tord out of the room. It’s times such as these Tom wished he’d been given psychic powers along with the rest of his gifts.

“And… go!”

At the signal, Tom pelted away at once as Paul pressed start on his stopwatch. Tord watched Tom race through the tracks, his gaze pinned on the eyeless man as he leaped over the obstacles at a decent speed.

Not taking his eyes off the test subject, Tord addressed his Commander. “Anything unusual happened while I was gone?”

“Unusual, sir?” Paul echoed, raising one eye-brow in confusion.

“With him.” Tord nodded in Tom’s general direction. “Has he demonstrated any odd behavior changes as of late?”

Paul shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir.”

Tord pursed his lips, unsatisfied. “Any more fainting episodes?”

“Negative, sir. Ever since his withdrawal subsided, Thomas hasn’t displayed any signs of fatigue or illness.” The Commander fidgeted. “Although he does get sluggish from time to time, and he often complains about headaches.”

Tord hummed thoughtfully, his hand trailing over the designs of his prosthetic one continuously. “And what are you giving him? Pat mentioned you changed his diet according to the improvement of his condition.”

“Normal meals. Mostly what the mess hall serves for the day, with the exception of red meat.”

The additional information caught the Red Leader’s interest, drawing his attention away from the tracks to look at the man beside him intently. “No red meat? Why is that?”

“Tom made his distaste abundantly clear when we served it to him the first time.” Paul admitted. “After that, he insisted on only fish and chicken.”

Interesting bit of trivia. Tord narrowed his eyes. He was brought out of his thoughts when Tom raced past them, panting profusely as he crossed over the finish line. His face was flushed red with the heat of the exercise, and his pacing was slow, if a little sloppy.

As soon as he reached the end, Tom collapsed to the floor; chest heaving as he fought to catch back his breath.

Tord looked over to Paul.

“50 seconds- slightly slower than last time.” He states, showing him the timer on his stopwatch.

Tord frowned. His stamina leaves a lot to be desired. He thought exasperatedly. Then his aggravation gave way to determination. But I know he can run much better than this!

Fortunately, Tord knows just what exactly he needs to bring out the best of the eyeless man.

He walked up to where Tom was splayed on the floor, still panting. Tord loomed over him with his arms folded behind his back and nudged the test subject’s body with one foot. “Get up.”

Tom looked up at him. “Yeah yeah- just uh- just give me a second.”

“It’s already been a second.” Tord stated firmly. “C’mon. The sooner you are done with this, the faster you can take a shower. You smell awful.”

At the insult, Tom’s gaze drifted from the ceiling to glare at the Norwegian man towering over him. Wincing at the effort in his tired limbs, Tom heaved himself to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He spat.

The Brit walked back to the starting point and readied himself into position. He still occasionally swayed from side to side, having not fully recovered yet; however, he patiently waited for Paul to give him the signal.

Watching him intently, Tord managed to suppress the grin the threatened to form on his face as he played his plan over again in his head. Let him have a head start.

“And… go!”

Tom rushed away immediately. He pushed himself forward despite the constant protests of his body for him to stop and rest, but he’ll only be able to do so after he’s done with the dumb exercises. Tom’s chest tightened with the lack of breath, and he felt his lungs practically screaming. The world seemed to close around him, but he pushed onward, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, fixed only on the tracks.

Suddenly, the sound of thrumming and fast footsteps catching up to him reached his ears. Before Tom could fully process it, Tord appeared right next him; matching his pace effortlessly. Tom looked at him in bewilderment.

“What the f-?!”

“Why so shocked, Jehovah?” Tord taunted knowingly. “At the rate that you’re running, even a crippled turtle would outrun you.”

Tom scowled. “Give me a break, you stupid commie! This is my sixth lap today to your first – cut me some slack, will you?”

Tord smirked. “Grouchy much?”

They jumped over the obstacles standing in their way together, with Tord taking the lead by a few inches ahead of Tom. However, despite his lazy speed it was clear the Norsk was only pacing himself to stay in step with the tired test subject. He can ditch him any time he wants but opted not to yet just to aggravate the Brit further.

While Tord leaped over the barriers in his way with smooth precision, Tom was clumsy in his lack of energy and his foot accidentally caught the upper-edge of the obstacle; slowing him down as he staggered forward and knocked the barrier to the ground. He quickly put his hands out in front of him to prevent himself from face-planting the floor.

“Classic stupid Tom! ~” Tord laughed, leaving him behind as he raced on ahead. “Watch your step, or you’re just going to keep eating dust.”

Fuming with anger, Tom hared after Tord as fast as he could. No way he was gonna let the commie get the best of him.

“Take it easy!” Paul called after him. “It’s not a race, remember?”

Tell that to Tord! Tom raced harder.

“C’mon Thomas, don’t be like that. Second best is nothing to be ashamed of!” He heard Tord laugh way up ahead.

His lungs ached. A cramp stabbed his ribs. Tord was already halfway back. At this rate, the Norsk would be able to lap him by the time he reached the finish line. How can he run that fast? He’s a smoker! Tom thought incredulously. He forced himself to keep going. The floor flashed beneath him as he fought for each breath. Tord stopped running and stood next to Paul by the end of the tacks to watch him. Dragging in another breath, he hurtled the last few meters and skidded to a halt beside them.

“I- I did! Ha ha…” Tom cheered pathetically, throwing his arms up but giving up half-way to let them rest by his sides. “In your… face!” He pointed at Tord, jabbing him on his chest weakly.

“The best soldier is the one who’s still fighting at the end of the battle. Don’t use up all your strength in the first fight.” Tord advised coolly.

Tom frowned. “Whatever; just give me the damn water bottle.”

Deciding he had enough fun tormenting the poor Brit for today, Tord obliged to his request and tossed the bottle over to him. He turned to Paul. “How was the time this lap?”

“42 seconds! He did much better this time around.” Paul exclaimed.

Of course he did. Tord thought smugly. Tom would never let me best him without trying. All he needed was a little motivation. And though it was not his intent, he actually had a lot of fun racing Tom; even if it was just to nag him into hurrying up. It reminded him of the good old days when they had physical education together as children.

But Tom can still improve. He pushed the childish thoughts aside and shifted back to his leader persona.

“I think Thomas needs a little demonstration on how it should be done.” Tord decided. “Paul, will you please do the honors?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul tore away, following the line of the tracks at a steady pace.

Tord beckoned Tom over. “Watch him closely.” He ordered as the Brit neared and stood beside him. Upon closer inspection, Tord realized how completely spent and unsteady Tom was on his feet. He placed one hand on the eyeless man’s shoulder to steady him. He immediately felt him tense in his grip, and Tom tried to brush him away; however, although his grasp was not firm, it was persistent and kept Tom from nearly falling over.

“See how much space he covers with each step. Watch how he stretches forward each time his feet leave the ground. Speed is vital, but you need to be in control of the speed.” Tord murmured.

Tom watched attentively how Paul curved his leg with each stride. The Red Commander was at ease with his movements as he raced through the tracks, and doesn’t appear to be the least bit tired by the time he skidded to a halt beside them.

“One last lap. Got your breath back?” Tord asked.

Tom sighed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t aim for speed.” Tord warned. “You need your strength later.”

Tom dipped his head and walked over to the starting line. As soon as Paul gave the signal to go he broke into a run, not pushing hard at first but gaining rhythm and speed as he crossed the tracks. He focused on each bound, reaching out with his feet a little farther before they touched the ground. He pushed harder with every stride until he was aware of nothing but the steady thrumming of his feet and the way his breath fell in time with his pace. He was suddenly moving with ease and hardly noticed any shortage of oxygen in his lungs.

“Much better! You got 32 seconds this time around.” Tord’s voice surprised him. He’d completed the lap of the running track already, so focused that he hadn’t seen him. He pulled up, slowing to a halt before turning and strolling back to his side.

“Nice work, Tom.” Paul acknowledged him with a dip of his head. “I think we’re done for the day. Go ahead and shower.”

“Yes!” Tom breathed in relief. “Thank god, I thought I was about to throw up my lungs all over the floor from so much exercise.”

Tord rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Thomas.” He flashed him a knowing grin. “You’ll get used to them in time.”

Merely scoffing in reply, Tom picked up a fresh change of clothes and headed for the restroom in the back of the gym. Tord watched him leave, getting farther away until he entered the bathroom and disappeared from sight.

“So…”

Paul’s voice jerked Tord out of his thoughts, and he blinked in confusion. “So?” He echoed.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were planning to make Tom a soldier?” Paul crossed his arms, staring at him as he patiently waited for a reasonably good explanation.

Tord sighed. “I had a hunch Tom might’ve grown attached to the two of you, and vice versa, in my absence. I didn’t want to potentially sour this little trust triangle you got going on by having either of you feeding him that information.” He admitted. “Tom has a tendency to take things a lot more personally than they’re intended to be. He’s… interesting that way.” He paused, running his organic hand through his locks. “He wouldn’t have taken it well had you or Pat told him. It’s best to have his anger target someone who already had plenty of experience in the past.”

“Hm, and have three people be disappointed in you as opposed to only one – yes, very good planning on your part if I say so myself, sir.” Paul muttered somewhat condescendingly. “You could’ve just ordered us to not tell him, if that were the case!”

“It wouldn’t have worked – Tom would’ve just taken that as a bigger offence.” Tord stated coolly. “Anyway, It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done, and now you know.”

Paul tsked, his eyes gleaming in anticipation of trouble ahead. “You’re the leader. But Pat ain’t gonna like this one bit. You know how he is with keeping vital information from the two of us.”

Tord shrugged stubbornly. “Patrick will just have to accept the decision.”

“If you insist, sir.” Paul frowned. “However, I must remind you that our schedules are kind of in a tight fit. Between dealing with the formal aspects of the base and evaluating Tom’s condition twice a week; it will be hard for either of us to find time to oversee Tom’s soldier training on top of all that.”

“Don’t worry, Paul. I already took all of that into consideration when I made my decision.” The Norwegian man dismissed his concerns. “Which is why I had my schedule re-organized to fit in time for Tom’s training.”

Had he been drinking, Paul would’ve surely spat it out all over the floor by now. “You’ll mentor him?” He sputtered, staring at his leader incredulously. “Is that a good idea, sir?”

Tord crossed his arms. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked, feeling annoyance beginning to sour his good humor. “This isn’t the first time I personally train soldiers; and Thomas is a special case.”

“Because you two don’t get along.” Retorted Paul matter-of-factly. “Leaving you alone with him is the biggest recipe for disaster I ever heard. Anything goes wrong, and you’ll immediately go at each other’s throats – you said so yourself! Wouldn’t it make more sense to have either Pat or I to mentor him? You know… someone he actually trusts?”

Tord hesitated. There was some truth in what Paul said, but Tord knew that he couldn’t give the task to any other person. He had to have Tom under his own guidance to keep a close eye on any signs of the serum affecting his performance, and make sure he stayed loyal to the Red Army. He knew the most logical choice would be to have either of his most trusted soldiers to train him. Yet something made him reluctant to give Tom to either of them. They don’t have quite the same extensive knowledge about Tom the way that he does.

“My mind’s made up.” He stated curtly. “He’s part of the Red Army one way or another, so he’ll have to get used to my presence eventually. We can’t keep delaying that, so might as well cross that bridge as soon as possible.”

A curious, and yet somehow teasing hum reached his ears. Tord turned to Paul, blinking in surprise when he noticed the Commander staring at him disbelievingly. He narrowed his eyes in return. “What?”

“Sir… do you still harbor feelings for him after all?”

Tord’s mechanical fist immediately clenched. Paul’s words have probed a Pandora’s box of emotions he’d so carefully locked away and abandoned in the deepest part of his subconscious; buried beneath an endless pile of duties and future plans he would so often lose himself to, in order to feed his ambition and aspirations as an army leader, and thus, keep him blissfully ignorant of their existence.

His mood turning stone cold, Tord was quick to grab a hold of himself before he could be swept back to the contents of that particular box, and fixed Paul with a deadly glare. “No, I don’t.” He snarled, straightening his posture to a more authoritative attitude. “Tom is nothing more than a test subject, who just so happens to be the key to victory to my conquest for world domination. Other than that, Tom means nothing to me. Are we clear on that fact?”

Paul opened his mouth to reply, when another voice cut in.

“Hey Paul! I think the ventilation system in the bathroom is busted – it’s way too hot in there!”

They looked up just in time to see Tom exit the restroom, wearing only pants as he dried the bare upper part of his body with a towel.

Tord’s face heat up at the sight of Tom’s shirtless form standing several feet in front of him, melting away all remnants of his anger as he stared at him in awe. His one-eyed gaze raked over the eyeless man’s features, tracing every detail of his well-built and toned chest. Tord realized with exhilaration that Tom was still wet and coated in water as the tiny specks caught the light and gave his appearance a more radiant look, and the Norsk watched as the eyeless man dried himself slack-jawed in amazement.

“Well, I can certainly see why you’re called the Red Leader.”

Paul’s teasing remark cut through Tord’s thoughts and he immediately blinked back to reality. With greater difficulty than he cared to admit, Tord tore his gaze away from the shirtless Brit, and glanced at his Commander who’s looking up at him with a smug expression.

Tord froze, feeling panic rise within him. “Was my staring really that obvious?”

“You were practically drooling, sir.” Paul replied simply, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice as he gestured toward the moisture coating the Norsk’s chin.

Flushing in embarrassment, Tord wiped away the dampness from his chin with the back of his hand. Despair seized Tord, as the terrible realization that Paul had been right dawned on him.

No… no! This cannot be!

What was supposed to be nothing more than a childish crush for Tom – something Tord had taken great lengths to get over and forget about in order to pursuit his goals, has come back to haunt him. The emotions he worked so hard to shoot dead and bury six feet under, have risen from the grave like a strike of lightning through his body.

He risked another glimpse of the eyeless man, mortified at the notion of Tom having seen his slip up and dumbfounded stare. Tord breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed Tom had been too busy drying himself to really pay attention to what they were doing. His stare lingered a couple seconds longer and watched the Brit put on a shirt; all the while despising the familiar fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of his stomach as he admired the sight.

Anger and frustration flared up inside of Tord, quickly squashing down these invasive emotions with an iron fist. I am the Red Leader, and future ruler of the whole world. He reminded himself solemnly. I cannot be distracted by insignificant emotions – they lead to weakness, and I am not weak! He’d already made an exception for Paul and Pat in his life, he can’t afford to be soft-hearted now.

“First you want Tom as a test subject, then as a soldier… next step I guess would be to have him as your-”

Tord did not let the Commander finish his sentence. He spun around, looking furious, and Paul instantly regretted his words as he was grabbed by the front of his uniform by the Red Leader.

“This changes nothing.” The Norwegian man stated, his voice deadly quiet and yet very clear. “Mark my words; if this ever gets out to anyone other than the two of us, the soldiers will be wondering why we haven’t had a taco Friday for the last two years, capiche?”

Paul blinked at him, more bewildered than afraid by his leader’s threat. “Yes, sir.”

“Uh… am I interrupting something?”

Tord let go of Paul at once, and they quickly composed themselves as they turn to address Tom; who’d been standing there for a while in clear confusion.

“Ah yes! The ventilation system. Right.” Tord cleared his throat, straightening himself. “Paul, would you be so kind to have a look at it while I escort Thomas to his quarters?”

“I can walk there by myself, you know.” Tom remarked dryly.

“Oh, I am sure that you can!” The Norsk grinned, his voice smooth and condescending. “However, there are some things that I must discuss with you.”

Tom groaned in exasperation and appear to roll his non-existent eyes, but remained quiet as he walked past Tord and headed toward the gym’s doors. Tord chuckled softly under his breath and followed suit, keeping pace with the huffy test subject.

Paul hadn’t uttered a word throughout the exchange, but Tord noticed that his eyes were glowing with amusement as his gaze followed the pair leave. His interaction with Tom was obviously entertaining the Commander greatly. Tord felt a self-conscious prickle ripple through his skin, and he looked away awkwardly; keeping his gaze anywhere else as he exited the gym with Tom.

As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, Tord felt instant relief flood through him.

Together, they trekked through the long corridors of the lab level. Tord appeared to have something on his mind, and Tom grew increasingly impatient.

“Alright.” Tom began with a weary sigh. “What’s so important that you just had to make me put up with you for longer than I would’ve liked?”

Stifling the laugh bubbling in his throat, Tord merely regarded the eyeless man walking alongside him intently. Tom already hasn’t taken the news of his soldier training very well, so imagine how he’ll react when Tord tells him that he’s going to be the one in charge of said training? Tord shrugged. No matter what way he goes about it, Tom’s anger is inevitable; so he might as well out with it.

“Paul and Patrick have done an excellent work with your improvement thus far. However, as their duties to the army come first, neither of them will be available to aid in your training as a soldier.” Tord paused and watched Tom’s expression shift slightly as he listened carefully. “So I will be personally in charge of overseeing your training.”

He waited for anger to spark in the Brit’s dark, empty sockets, and a resentful curse to be spat his way as he was pinned to the nearest wall by the neck. But Tom merely looked at him, took a deep breath and said: “Fine.”

Tord turned to him in bewilderment. “Wait… you’re okay with this?” He asked, genuinely stupefied by the reaction he got.

Tom shrugged. “What’s the point of getting angry over something that’s out of my control? Yeah it sucks, but it’s not like I can do anything to change it now.”

Who are you, and what have you done with Tom? Tord nearly said out loud, but curbed his tongue at the last second. Looking closely at the test subject now, he realized how miserable and defeated Tom appeared to be. Even after he’d taken a shower, Tom remained tired. Tord couldn’t help but frown in disappointment. He’d been expecting – anticipating even! – for Tom to revolt like the stubborn little spitfire that he knows and-

Tord slammed the breaks on that train of thought at once. Goddamn it, Paul! Frustration welled up inside of him. Why did he have to say anything? Tord had his emotions and thoughts well under control until he had them pointed out to. Now that he is made aware of their existence one more, Tord is struggling to keep cool and not acknowledge them at any given chance.

Doing his best in disregarding them, Tord jerked out of his thoughts and realized they were standing in front of Tom’s quarters.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Tom strolled inside, with Tord peering into the room from the entrance. He was surprised to find that Tom’s living arrangements have gained a lot more character since the last time he’d been here.

There were shelves attached to the wall opposite the doorway, with a limited selection of books. Tord guessed Pat had lent some to Thomas after the latter complained of boredom, and possibly to reward him for his good behavior as well. There’s a simple, cube-shaped, navy blue radio by his nightstand displaying the time and date in neon green numbering; next to a lamp. A stack of blank sheets of paper are kept in one corner of the room, with a few pens scattered around. And glued on the surface of a dart board, hanging on the bathroom door, was a crude drawing of Tord with darts stabbed all over the drawing.

Tord raised one eyebrow in amusement. “I can see you made yourself right at home.” He chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want; but I couldn’t stand taking naps all the time, and this was the best Paul and Pat could do for me.” Tom turned around to face Tord with arms crossed over his chest and sighed tiredly. “When… will we start training?” He hesitantly asked.

“In two weeks, more or less.” Tord murmured, making a quick mental revision of his schedule for the next few days. “You don’t have to worry about the specifics. I will come for you when the time comes.”

It dawned on him then that Tom wasn’t worried about missing the training, but rather, dreading it. Idiot. Tord berated himself for his mistake, then followed up with a chain of curses for even caring about it in the first place. Why should the Red Leader care whether or not his test subject is happy with his fate? It’s not his fault Tom hadn’t seen this coming when he signed his life over to him!

And yet… how come he felt melancholic all of a sudden?

It is then that Tord remembers how much he despises when Tom became curt and unresponsive, no matter how much he’d tease the Brit. Tom is no fun when he’s like that. Uh yeah! It’s boredom that I’m feeling – no way in hell this could be a sadness of any kind. He tried telling himself that, when an idea sparked inside his head and he grinned. And I know just the thing to get a reaction out of him.

“Ah! I almost forgot. I got something for you.” Tord practically purred. He fumbled with the inner pocket of his uniform, looking for something. Tom’s eyebrows shot upward in sudden interest, but he eyed the Norsk wearily; as if he were expecting the man in red to pull a dirty trick on him. “You behaved so well while I was away, and you did good today. I think you deserve a reward.”

Tom didn’t know what he was expecting to get, perhaps a box of dog treats because that’s how petty Tord is. However, as soon as the Norwegian man pulled out his prize from his pocket, Tom let out a barely audible gasp as he stared at the familiar teddy bear with the iconic unibrow in place of its of eyes.

“Tomee bear!”

Tord held the plushie out for Tom to take, and it took everything he had to not swipe his childhood bear immediately out of the Commie’s grasp. For all he knows, Tord is just setting a trap for him. How did he get this? Tomee bear is back at- Tom looked at his dear plushie for several heartbeats, his expression turning to one of confusion before settling on shock as he slowly pieced the pieces together and looked back up at Tord.

Horror welled up inside of Tom. “You… you went near them?!”

Tord regarded him with a curious gaze and cocked his head to one side. “Define: near.”

Horror gave way to fury, and Tom bristled with rage. There was nothing holding him back from attacking Tord right here and now. Tord broke his end of the deal, and Tom doesn’t have to obey him anymore.

He was about to launch himself at the Norsk and attack, but Tord had predicted his reaction and pressed a button on his robotic arm. Tom blinked in surprised when his body went rigid against his will, his muscles cramping at once, and found himself unable to move.

“Ah ah ah! Let’s not break your streak of good behavior now, Thomas. It would be a shame if I had to take away some of your privileges so soon after my return.” Tord tutted.

A muffled growl of frustration rumbled from Tom’s throat as he tried in vain to move any of his limbs, but they were all unresponsive and tucked close together against his body.

“Don’t bother. It’s another feature of the chip we have implanted on your spine, remember? Be thankful I hadn’t used a controlled shock this time! Your body is completely paralyzed until I decide to free you again.” Tord went on, messing around with the teddy bear in his hands whilst simultaneously mocking Tom, as if to say: I got your precious bear, and you can’t do sh#t about it! But Tom was more furious at the notion that the Commie went anywhere near the friends he was trying so hard to keep safe and was now parading freely in front of him without fear of any repercussions.

“Guess I can’t really blame you for reacting the way that you did. But to be fair; you never specified the meaning of “near” when we made our deal. So as far as I know, “near” could mean one meter of distance.” Tord reasoned with a shrug, stepping closer to Tom’s frozen form.

The test subject could do nothing but watch as the Norsk towered over him. He couldn’t even shrink back to put some space between the uncomfortable proximity they were in. Tom screamed internally when different types of hands, one made of skin and the other out of metal, cupped the sides of his face. Get off of me! Tom desperately wanted to slap the hands away from him but found himself still as a statue despite his attempts to struggle.

“However, though I know my word doesn’t mean much to you, I can assure you I did not interact with them in any way.” Tord continued speaking. “I admit, I did see them… but they were a well good ten meters away from where I was, and they had no idea I was there.” He paused, his tone softening. “It just so happens that they were visiting your grave at the time.”

Tom stopped his futile struggles and listened.

“They wanted to give your precious Tomee bear back to its rightful owner, and so they left it by your tombstone.” Tord went on. “Me, watching the entire scene from far away, thought to myself right then: “Hm… It sure would be a pity to leave my test subject’s most prized possession to rot here when all Edd and Matt want is to give it back. So why not fulfil their wish?” So I went ahead and took it as soon as they left.” He clarified, peering into Tom’s unique, dark eyes. “So you see? I haven’t infringed our deal at all! Even though you never specified the terms of “near”, I did keep my word and never interacted with them. Which means that our deal still stands in full.”

Edd and Matt are still safe. Understanding slowly dawned on Tom, and his temper cooled significantly. And they… miss me? He felt touched by the implication. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite appreciate the notion with Tord still holding his face and infringing his personal space like that.

As if he had been reading his thoughts, Tord pulled away from him, and Tom breathed a small sigh of relief. “Now that everything is cleared up, I am going to release you from your paralysis, and you won’t attack me.” He instructed carefully. “Then you can either accept the gift I so generously fetched for you or refuse it; whichever you prefer. But one wrong move, and you’re going to regret it. Am I clear?”

An awkward silence met his words. Tom couldn’t speak or nod, so they just stood there until Tord realized that for himself and face palmed. “Uh… make a noise if you understand.” Tord repeated.

He heard a low grunt from the eyeless man in response. Satisfied, Tord pressed the same button on his arm and set Tom free from his statue-like state.

“Ah! You f#cker!” Tom cursed loudly as soon as he could move again. Feeling his muscles were stiff, like he’d just been electrocuted, Tom made quick work to check all his limbs were working properly by stretching and gently massaging them.

Tord grinned, happy he managed to bring out the good old Tom he found so endearing to pester.

Endearing?

Fun! Tord corrected his thoughts, growing increasingly frustrated at himself at this point. This is getting ridiculous.

Choosing to ignore his traitorous thoughts for now and deal with them later, Tord offered the odd teddy bear out to Tom again. The eyeless man paused in his ministrations and regarded Tomee bear with a suspicious stare. He looks up at Tord with the same look; as if to ask him “no more tricks?”

Tord nodded encouragingly.

Tom narrowed his eyes but reached for the stuffed bear regardless. As soon as he had his cherished teddy bear out of the Norsk’s grasp and into his own, Tom was hit with an immense wave of emotions. Tomee bear had been a gift from his father, and since his death, Tom had taken great lengths to cherish the bear by keeping it close to him at all times. Now that he is stuck in this forsaken base, and will most likely die here as well, Tomee bear now serves as a reminder for his friends too.

Tom hugged the plush tightly to his chest and nuzzled it. He could care less if he was being vulnerable in front of Tord right now. The Commie has no emotional connection to the bear whatsoever, and by god, Tom is not going to be ashamed to cherish the hell out of it even more.

Tord watched the scene with growing fondness and a small smile on his face. Even after all these years… He thought warmly. He still loves that stuffed bear with all his heart. He felt a familiar, but not at all unpleasant tingle in his chest.

“Thanks.”

Tord snapped out of his thoughts when Tom spoke to him, albeit reluctantly judging by his low tone of voice. The Norsk flushed in embarrassment. “Oh! Uh y-you’re welcome?” He stuttered, and immediately cringed. Today is not going the way that I expected. He recomposed himself and cleared his throat, lifting his chin with an air of authority to him. “Yes- anyway, I have pressing matters to attend to at the moment, so I’ll leave you be to your peaceful solitude.” He said, recovering from his slip up with what he deemed sufficient grace.

“You do that…” Tom muttered.

Without another word, Tord quickly stepped out of the room and let the door hiss shut behind him. He let out a long sigh of exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all! Tord cursed, his jaw clenched.

He began to put as much distance between himself and Tom’s quarters, quickening his pace in longer strides as he headed for the elevator, whilst continuously chastising himself for being caught off guard by his weak emotions.  

“This doesn’t change anything.” Tord kept telling himself under his breath. “I lived just fine with these emotions before, and that doesn’t mean I’ll go soft-hearted now. I’ll just have to stay as far away from Tom until his training begins; I can easily neglect these feelings again until then.” And maybe Paul, just in case. Tord isn’t taking any chances. He can’t go back to be who he once was – that version of him isn’t strong enough to face the future he’d planned ahead. Red Leader, on the other hand, is powerful. To lead his army to glory and achieve his goals, he must be more like the Red Leader he had envisioned, and less like the weak dork that he had vowed he would never be again.

Friendship and love are worthless to me in the long run. Tord reminded himself sternly. There’ll come a day when I’ll be so powerful, I’ll have no need for anyone else. And when that day comes, the world will bow down to me. He smirked wickedly at the thought.

However, his thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he turned the corner only to bump into a very livid looking Patrick. The General’s eyes flashed at him.

“What’s this Paul tells me?” Pat demanded. “Is it true that you are going to train Tom as a soldier without consulting us first?”

Faen. Tord cursed his luck.

(Meanwhile…)

Rain fell steadily, drumming on the hard pavement that led between unending rows of city blocks. From time to time a car thundered past, its headlights glaring, and people scurried along their merry way to escape the rainstorm.

Wearing the hood over his head and both his hands stuffed in his pockets, Edd looked both ways and hurriedly crossed the street when he deemed safe enough to proceed.

Harsh yellow light angled across him, and he flinched as a car roared around the corner, throwing up a wave of filthy water that reeked of rubbish. Edd let out a startled yelp as the water slopped around his feet and the spray splashed his clothes.

“Argh, great.” Edd muttered sarcastically, looking down at his wet clothes.

Despite his current condition, Edd was excited to be out here. When his disastrous evening with Matt didn’t go the way they had been expecting to, Edd was looking forward to meeting with Reagan and spend some quality time away from all his problems. He really needed to catch a break.

Barely visible through the clouds, the moon was at its height by the time the Harrybrook hotel came into view. Edd hurried his step, eager to get this night going. He reached the foyer of the hotel and looked around for Reagan but found no signs of him anywhere. Edd frowned. Is he getting ready still?

Pulling his phone out Edd quickly began to type in a text.

(EG): Hey!!

(EG): I’m here

(EG): Wh-

“EDDIE!”

A loud voice practically shouted in his ears and a pair of hands came down and clutched his shoulders in a tight, and sudden grip. Edd did not budge or react in any way. He raised one eyebrow, evidently not impressed and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey Reagan.” He greeted casually, not fazed by the Irishman’s attempts of scaring him.

Reagan frowned. “Wha- ? You didn’t get scared?”

Edd shrugged. “Meh. Kind of hard to get scared when you greet me the exact same way every time we go hang out together.”

Reagan placed one hand over his own chest, where his heart should be. “Are you calling me predictable?”

The brunet smirked. “Well, I’m not calling you original, so…”

The Irishman let out a fake, exaggerated gasp before narrowing his eyes. “So that’s how it is then? Well… I guess this means I just have to try harder from here on out.” His mesmerizing green eyes glowed with mirth. “That’s quite alright; I am always up for a challenge. But I’m warning you now – you’re going to regret it.”

Edd laughed. “Ooh! I am terrified!”

A large grin stretched across Reagan’s face. “It’s sure good to see you, buddy.” He chuckled, giving a tap on Edd’s shoulder so hearty that it almost pushed the brunet off balance. “What do you say we go to a pub and drink, maybe eat some fries, and do some stupid sh#t together?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alrighty then!”

Reagan looped his arm around Edd’s shoulders, bringing the Brit closer to him as they began to head down the street; jovially laughing along the way.

Following their initial meeting several weeks back, with Edd agreeing to be Reagan’s guide for the duration of his cryptic job; they began spending more casual time together. It mostly consists of them goofing about, doing stupid stuff, and Edd showing the Irishman around town.

They walked though the dim, rainy streets for a while, not caring for the bad weather going on around them. Occasionally Edd would stop and point out something about the town to Reagan, going over briefly about the locations they strolled past before carrying on their way.

They came across a bar and decided to settle there. Reagan burst in with vigorous delight, his green eyes bright like a child’s in a candy store as he sat in one of the stools at the bar stand. Edd followed suit a little slower. He checked his surroundings wearily, inspecting the other bystanders in the establishment before taking a seat next to Reagan.

Edd’s no stranger to bars. He just doesn’t go to them very often.

The bartender asked for their orders.

“Beer. Just beer. Any beer. Doesn’t matter just as long is it is beer.” Reagan told the middle-aged man behind the counter.

The barkeep raised one eyebrow, and then turned to Edd.

“Iced cola for me, please.”

Reagan appeared to scoff and throw him an incredulous look as the bartender left to go get their drinks. “Cola? Really?”

“What?” Edd turned to him in confusion.

“Dude, you now that I’m the one paying, right?” The Irishman continued. “You can have anything you want, and you go for cola?”

Edd shrugged. “I am not much of a drinker.”

The blonde man tsked. “Aiight, if that’s what you are most contented with that’s fine by me.” He nudged the Brit’s elbow with his own and sent a wink his way. “But hey, if you ever change your mind I’ll be glad to abide.”

Edd opened his mouth to reply when the bartender returned with their drinks in hand. Reagan immediately downed his drink in one swig and slammed the glass back on the table. “Another.” He licked his lips clean.

Edd chuckled quietly in amusement. Reagan sure likes his beer. He thought, taking sip of cola. He churned the dark beverage in his glass, his smile faltering. He’s a bit like Tom, in a way. His heart twisted with a sudden and terrible ache in his chest.

Thoughts of earlier events that day returned to the front page of his mind, and they soured any semblance of good humor he had. Edd sighed.

“Why the long face, Eddie?” Reagan asked, snapping Edd out of his thoughts. “You look as if you got plenty in your mind.”

“You have no idea.” The brunet mused bitterly.

“Would you like to share with moi?” Reagan offered, tapping one of his fingers against the marble table in a rhythmic fashion.

Edd bit the inside of his lips unsurely. Although they would tend to tap into heavier subjects once in a while; for the most part, these nightly outings served solely as a good distraction. However, its not like he has anyone else to talk to about these things. Matt is too gullible and dim-witted to comprehend what Edd’s main issue is. Reagan is an outsider who could perhaps have a better angle at things.

“Where to even begin?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his own face.

Through the gap between his fingers, he saw a glass of beer slide across the counter and stop perfectly in front of him. Edd blinked and glanced at the Irishman sitting by his side. Reagan nodded toward the beverage encouragingly. “Let’s start with loosening up a little bit.”  

Edd raised an eyebrow skeptically. Again; he has had beer before, and although he didn’t dislike it was far from being one of his favorites drinks. However, the blond’s offer still enticed him. Surely one glass won’t harm anyone?

Making his mind up, Edd grabbed the glass determinably and tipped back his head and started to consume the bitter beverage.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Reagan chanted beside him, edging him on until Edd drank the entire glass. “Wooo!”

The brunet wiped away the foam from his face with the back of his coat’s sleeve, clicking his tongue to taste the remnants of beer in his mouth. Edd sighed. “It’s just… some stupid neighbors moved into my building today.”

Reagan raised an eyebrow, his attention peaked with interest. “Oh? What kind of neighbors?” He questioned. “The lousy type? Party animals? Junkies? The lewd type?”

A shiver of disgust rippled down Edd’s spine at the thought and he cringed. There’s no way in hell he is going to keep the imagery in his head for the reminder of the night. He gestured the bartender forward and ordered a beer for himself. Just in case.

“No. It’s nothing like that.” He explained. “My friends and I used to be neighbors with them before. But we weren’t exactly in friendly terms back then.”

“Rivals eh? Sounds fun.” The Irishman bent forward to listen closely. This information may prove useful, after all.

“Not really.” Edd muttered. “But the thing is…” How can he explain this next part without going into much depth? “There was a gas leak in both of our houses and they blew up.” He half-lied. He wasn’t going to admit the true events of that day to anyone outside of that incident. There were too many risks, and the memory still hurt. “We haven’t seen each other since that day, and now that we are neighbors again I have no idea what our current stand is.”

“Why would it have changed at all since then?” Reagan narrowed his eyes.

Edd flinched. He took a sip of his cola to calm his nerves, but dread was still eating away at him. Had he known his true nature then, Edd would’ve never allow him to return. “Because the gas leak was kind of my fault.” He gulped. “And one of my neighbors – there were three of them then – died that day because of it.”

He waited for a shocked gasp to reach his ears. Instead, Reagan stared steadily back at him and sort of nodded in understanding. “Awkward.” He took a sip of his beer.

Edd looked at him in disbelief. “Woah, you are taking this surprisingly well all things considered.” He pointed out.

“Meh.” Reagan shrugged unimpressed. “Accidents tend to happen all the time. I’ve kind of grown used to it by now, and so nothing really fazes me anymore.”

Truth be told, Reagan knows Edd just lied to his face. The guarded and uncertain tone in the Brit’s voice gave him away. Although he was curious to learn what really happened, Reagan wasn’t about to push his luck just yet. He needs to establish a stronger bond with his target before he can get to the juicy, tragic bits and use them against him. Though he assumes it has something to do with the charred ruins where he first made contact with the brunet.

Still, he’ll let that obvious little lie slide. For now.

“Well, anyway.” Reagan went on as normal. “Can’t say that I blame you for feeling the way that you do with them back in your life.” He grinned inwardly. “What about your friends, what do they think of the situation?”

The reaction he wanted was instantaneous. Although Edd didn’t outright flinch, Reagan did feel him tense up next to him, and it took everything he had in him to keep down the Cheshire-grin that threatened to stretch out across his face.

Edd’s breath wavered and he tried to steady himself. “Matt knew they were moving in.” In Tom’s apartment. He did not dare complete the sentence out loud.

“And he didn’t even tell you?” Reagan exclaimed, pretending to be shocked.

The Brit mentioned his ginger-haired companion to him before, and from what he heard so far, this Matt fellow wasn’t going to be a threat to his goals. But he needed to sever that bond in order to make Edd more susceptible to his manipulation. He doesn’t have to break them apart completely; but where was the fun in that?

Reagan shot him a sympathetic glance. “He doesn’t sound like much of a friend to me.” He observed. “I mean, what kind of friends keep things from each other?”

Edd felt a tinge of defensiveness at the Irishman’s words. After all, Reagan doesn’t really know Matt.

“He’s a great friend.” He responded. “But… well, things haven’t been the same between us since-” He bit down on his own tongue, holding the words before they could get out.

“Since?” Reagan prompted curiously.

Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Could he really say something so heavy and personal to Reagan? The Irishman has certainly been a great deal of fun over these past few weeks; helping him move from his grief and let him forget his problems. But Edd wasn’t quite confident in entrusting Reagan with this information yet.

But I promised I would get over and move on. He recalled. If I can’t even say this out loud, am I doing any progress at all?

Edd tensed, his hands clenching into fists. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in his throat like a hard piece of candy, and were just as difficult to dislodge.

“Before our friend died.” He admitted at last, thinking longingly of the time when he, Matt, and Tom went in all kinds of crazy adventures together. The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he let go of the long-held grief.

The blond man’s expression fell, and he cast his gaze to the ground. “Oh. I’m… sorry to hear.” He murmured sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to – I mean, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” Edd cut him off. “It’s been a few months since, but I guess neither of us really got over it.”

The Irishman was silent for a while, his green eyes staring at the brunet with a calculating gaze; whilst concealing his true face inside. Wonder how he would react if he learned that I’m the one behind his freaky friend’s death? He mused with mirth. As fun as the idea would be, Reagan can’t let him know that dirty little secret just yet. He needs Edd to join the Red Army first, or he would never get that promotion. Maybe a few years from now, when we’re both deep into the global domination schemes, I could tell him. Ha. He’ll probably laugh when all is said and done.

Recomposing himself, Reagan cleared his throat to stifle the bout of giggles that bubbled inside of him. “Anyways, about the neighbors…” He continued from where the main topic left off. “I understand how weird this situation is, but do try to play it cool and keep a low profile.” Edd turned to him, listening to his advice intently. “I mean, why should you have to feel guilty for what happened? It’s not like you intended to kill the poor guy!”

“Of course not!” Edd snapped. Then he paused, his humor deflating as he recalled encounter with Eduardo earlier. “When I crossed paths with them today, they weren’t hostile toward me. They were… okay? I guess? But the whole thing just felt weird to me, and I have no idea what it means for our stances with each other.”

Reagan contemplated for a second, his lips pursed. “Do you reckon that maybe they know what happened to your friend?” He asked. “And because of that they think you are on equal ground? Like a: “now you know how I felt back then” kind of deal?”

Edd tensed. The Irishman’s words filled him with apprehension. Could Reagan be right? Eduardo does seem like the type of person who would find justice in such situation. But surely even Eduardo wouldn’t find enjoyment in this? Edd shook the thought away. “I d-don’t know.” He stammered. “Everything’s so confusing at the moment.”

Reagan chugged down his third glass of beer. “Don’t sweat it, buddy.” He gestured toward the untouched beer Edd had ordered a while ago. “Just tip back your head and drink your worries away. You seriously need to relax.”

The Brit glanced at his drink then back to his companion. “God, I’m so sorry.” A flash of guilt flared up inside of him. “We came out here to have fun and I spoiled the whole evening by rambling about my problems.”

He was about to apologize again when a finger came up to his lips and shushed him. “Less talking, and more drinking.” Reagan told him playfully stern.

They clinked their drinks together, sat back, and drank their fill of the bitter beverage. By the time he got all of it down, Edd was feeling tipsy and he swayed a little from side to side.

“By the way, you never quite told me what your job actually is.” The brunet pointed out, his words slurred.

“I haven’t?” Reagan put his elbow on the table and leaned against his hand, looking at the Brit though half-lidded eyes as the alcohol started to take effect. “I am an entertainer. I thought that much was obvious by now.”

“Oh! Like a comedian or a magician?” Edd asked, taking a sip of his cola next to balance out the alcohol in his system.

Reagan grinned slyly. “Not that type of entertainment, silly Eddie. I mean that I am a stripper.” His smile grew wider as Edd choked and spat out his drink. He burst into a fit of laughter and slammed his hand repeatedly on the counter. “Haha! Oh man, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Haha!” He wiped away a stray tear from his eyes.

“H-ha- haha yeah.” Edd laughed weakly whilst coughing. He could feel his throat burn badly from the intensity of choking on soda. He beat his own chest a couple of times to clear the airways. “G-good one.”

Reagan’s laughter died away. “But seriously though, I can’t tell you what it is.” He told the brunet. “I would if it were up to me, but since it is kind of a work policy not to reveal it out in public, I can’t.”

“Woah, are you a secret agent of some kind?”

“Can’t quite answer that either – It goes against the company’s policy, remember?” Reagan shrugged and laughed, teasing the Brit further.

They went back to drinking and chatting merrily. Reagan kept urging Edd to drink more and more, making the brunet relax and put down the sealed tight, steel walls he surrounded himself in. The Irishman payed very close attention to Edd’s ramblings about his life; especially the part concerning his friends and his fears of losing every single person he ever cared about, and how he won’t be able to stand if anything happened to the ginger doofus.

All that vital information Reagan saved away for later reference.

#Tomtord #eddsworld #my little test subject #MLTS #ew tom #ew tord #angst #mlts Reagan

[cmhoughton]

This interview by Karen (the Site Admin for Diana’s pages on the LitForum and previous CompuServe forum) is split up into two pages.  It’s been ten years since she started her blog, so this interview celebrates that.  However, since the pages took FOREVER to load I will spare everyone the frustration and post them both here.

However, since this is long, I will put it behind a cut:

In celebration of the 10th anniversary of Outlandish Observations, I'm very pleased to bring you my first-ever interview with Diana Gabaldon! Frankly, the idea of interviewing Diana Gabaldon was a little nervewracking for me at first, even though I've known her online since 2007 and we interact almost daily on TheLitForum.com (formerly the Compuserve Books and Writers Community).  I've never interviewed anyone before, and it took me a while to decide what questions to ask. I did my best to come up with questions that are somewhat different from the usual things people always ask her.  I'm just DELIGHTED with her answers, and I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I did! (The photo above is from my first meeting with Diana, at a book-signing in Maryland in 2009.) You've published a number of novellas and shorter pieces in the last few years. What do you see as the advantages of the shorter format, for you as a writer? They're shorter. <g> I.e., I can finish one in much less time than the four to five years it takes for one of the Big Books. Basically, it's a bit of a mental vacation to deal with something that's very interesting, but on a smaller scale--and offers a quicker gratification in completing it. The novellas offer me the opportunity to go explore the byways of minor characters and interesting storylines that lie outside either the temporal or the logistical reach of the Big Books. Do you still write in "pieces" when you're working on a novella or short story, or is it more of a straight-line process? I always write in disconnected pieces, no matter what I’m writing; that’s just how my mind works. (I had one interviewer recently pause for a long moment after I’d answered one of her questions--obviously thumbing down her list--and then say, “I had a lot more questions, but you seem to have answered most of them already, while you were answering the one I asked you.” I apologized <g>, and explained that I inherited my digressive story-telling from my father--he’d begin (usually at the dinner table) with a recollection of someone from his past, and would start telling you a story about them--but every second paragraph or so, something he’d said would start a digression that added social context or personal opinion or associated history or data on location, and then without missing a beat, the story would swerve back onto its main track--until the next digression a minute later.) As I always tell people, “There’s a reason why I write long books; it’s because I like digression.” You've made very effective use of Twitter and Facebook in recent years, and many fans are addicted to your #DailyLines. How has the rise of social media affected the way you interact with your readers and fans? With your busy schedule, where do you find the time? Well, social media has sort of grown up around me. Back in 1985, I first went “online” (a concept that really didn’t exist in the popular consciousness yet) when I got an assignment to write a software review for BYTE magazine, and they sent with the software a disk for a trial membership with CompuServe (aside from government services like DARPA, “online” in the mid-80’s basically consisted of three “information services”: Delphi, Genie and CompuServe), so I could poke into the support forum the software vendors had set up there, and mention it in my review. After writing the review, I had a few hours of free connect time left (in a time when you were charged $30 an hour for using CompuServe—at 300 baud, dial-up), and so I started poking around to see what else was available. I stumbled into the CompuServe Literary Forum. This was not (as people sometimes assume) a writer’s group. It was a group of people who liked books. There were a few writers there, of course, both established and aspiring, but the main focus was simply on books: reading, impact, thinking in response to reading--and it was also just a fertile ground in which enormous, digressive and fascinating conversations could flourish (there was one truly remarkable conversation that became known as “the Great Dildo Thread,” that went on for months…). Anyway, that was where social media (which didn’t exist as a concept yet, though plainly it existed in fact) and I met. The next step was my website, established in 1994 (I think I was the first author to build a website for readers--and my eternal thanks to Rosana Madrid Gatti, who generously did the hard work of making and running the site; I sent her material and she’d post it for me (this was a looong time before WordPress and other blogging software made it possible for anybody to communicate directly with the world online). I did the website mostly in response to reader’s enthusiasm; I got a LOT of mail (regular letters) about the books, from people being complimentary, asking questions, taking issue with various aspects--but all of them wanted to know more: why did Claire do this, where did I find out about botanical medicine, did people really do that…and most particularly--when was the next book coming out. So the website was a means of answering reader questions--both for the readers who had asked those questions, and for the entertainment of other readers who perhaps hadn’t thought of those questions, but would be interested in the answers. The benefit of only having to type an answer once (many people naturally ask the same questions) was obvious--as was the benefit of being able to inform people of pub dates, book-signings, etc. So, knowing the benefits of such a channel, when other channels became available--AOL, for instance--I’d use them, at least briefly, and see whether they seemed helpful. Some were, some weren’t--I never bothered with MySpace, and in fact, it took some time for me to try Facebook (which I still use sparingly; I never go anywhere on Facebook other than my own page, and it’s what they call a “celebrity” page, which means that I don’t take “friend” requests. Nor, I’m afraid, can I read the private messages that people kindly leave me there--at the moment, the page has more than 700,000 members (or whatever you call regular visitors), and if only one percent of them send me messages…that’s 7,000 messages. There’s no way I can even read that many messages, let alone respond to them. Twitter also proved to be very useful; it provides instant access to a lot of people--and more valuable than that, it provides organic replication. If you post something interesting, many, many more people will see it, beyond the people who actually follow you. And it’s very good for making short-term announcements or asking urgent questions, because somewhere in the world, the person who can answer that question is awake and reading Twitter. <g> What's the most challenging, or frustrating, or difficult part of your role as consultant on the TV series? (I understand there are things you can't talk about, but can you comment on this in general?) Well, frustrations are of two types: 1) when a scriptwriter has done something that I think is not consistent with a character’s…er, character, and I can’t get them (“them” meaning not just the scriptwriter, but the production team in general) to change it, and 2) when they’ve shot something absolutely beautiful, in terms of acting, honesty, emotion, etc.--and then cut it out of the finished episode. What's the most fun part? The fun lies in seeing something remarkable evolve from a huge number of component parts, day by day by day. It’s like watching a forest grow in stop-motion time that speeds everything up. Would you be interested in writing another script for the TV show, after BEES is done? Yes, I would. It was a deeply interesting (if occasionally frustrating) experience. Script-writing is a very collaborative process, in which the script writer ultimately does not have complete control over the final product, which may have been rewritten several times by different people. That’s a very different experience from being a solitary god, as novelists are. <g> But it’s a fascinating experience, both in the consultation and writing (and revision and revision and revision…) and in the eventual final result: the filming. Filming is long, tedious, hard work--but very entertaining. As the OUTLANDER TV series approaches its fourth season, we're starting to see many more readers who've found your books as a result of the TV show. Aside from the effect on book sales (which must be considerable <g>), I'm interested to hear what you think about that. Do you find that people who found the TV show first tend to have different expectations, or different reactions to the books? People who’ve read the books first definitely have different reactions to the show <g>, but I don’t think the reverse is really true. I haven’t heard a lot of show-first people express any sense of shock or disapproval as to things happening in the books--they expect to see an expanded version of the story, with a lot more detail and more storylines, and that’s what they get. Many OUTLANDER fans, including myself, have re-read (or re-listened to) your books many, many times. Do you have a favorite author or authors whose books you re-read often, and if so, what is it about those books that makes them stand up well to re-reading? Yes, dozens. Right now, I’m re-reading all of Dorothy L. Sayers’s Lord Peter Wimsey novels, for probably the twentieth time. (I continue to enjoy them, but to be honest, I’m re-reading them now because I can put them down easily in order to work.) James Lee Burke would be another one, though I haven’t re-read his Dave Robicheaux novels as often as Sayers. And then there are Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin novels--I’ve read the series maybe three times, but listened to it on audio probably twenty times, at least--the reader, Patrick Tull, is fantastic, and the story always holds my interest while dog-walking or gardening. Like these, all the books I feel are worth re-reading depend on unique and engaging individuals. I like to spend time with these people (and on a lower level, I enjoy seeing just _how_ the author did what they did; knowing as much now as I do about the craft of writing, it’s hard to avoid seeing the techniques in use--a book that can suck me in sufficiently that I _don’t_ notice the engineering is definitely one I can re-read).

Part 2:

I'm not a writer of fiction, but I love it when Diana explains various writing techniques. So I thought it would be interesting to explore this particular one. I was astounded, and very grateful, that Diana replied in such detail! Be sure to click on the links about halfway through this post to read the examples from the text. *** SPOILER WARNING!! *** If you haven't read WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART'S BLOOD (Book 8 of the OUTLANDER series), you may encounter spoilers below. I was listening recently to the section of MOHB that deals with the Battle of Monmouth. It must be quite a challenge to write a complex series of scenes like that, with so many moving parts and different characters involved. Are there specific techniques that you use in writing battle scenes in particular, to give a sense of immediacy or heighten the dramatic tension? Managing a complex situation in fiction comes down essentially to Point of View.  You have to know whose head you’re in, and stay firmly there. Until you change to a different point-of-view character, that is… Who the point-of-view character is determines what kind of detail will be available to you, and guides the shape and flow of those periods of the text that belong to that specific character. For example (as you mention the Battle of Monmouth section of WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART’S BLOOD), the first thing I considered was whose viewpoint(s) to use in depicting it.  I’d read several accounts of the battle, including a very detailed step-by-step description provided by one of Osprey’s Men-at-War books, so I knew the general character of the battle:  it was a huge military encounter, involving more than 10,000 troops on either side, multiple commanders, and a ragged, rolling terrain that didn’t accommodate the standard eighteenth-century military formations and positioning At All. (No one chose the ground on which to fight; that particular stretch of farmland was just where Washington’s troops caught up with General Clinton’s troops, who were retreating from Philadelphia with a large number of fleeing Loyalists (and their property) under the army’s protection.) It was also a very long battle, fought from slightly before daybreak until well after dark, on one of the hottest days known (temperatures were estimated--ex post facto--at over a hundred degrees during the hottest part of the day). And it was an indecisive battle: neither side “won”--the British withdrew with their dependents and baggage trains and retired toward New York (which is what they’d been doing when the Americans attacked), and the Americans staggered back to their camps to recover, tend the wounded, and bury their dead. The significance of the battle, though, was subtle but Very Important--the Americans didn’t lose. This discomfited the British extremely, and heartened the Americans to an equal degree, enabling Washington to pursue his campaign. OK, so we have a very complex mess to describe. Obviously, no one person could possibly see enough of the battle to have any idea how it was going, let alone what strategy was in use. So I knew from the start that I’d need more than one viewpoint character, and could then switch among them as needed to give their separate takes on what was happening to them, and the reader would get both the necessary information as to what was happening overall, and the sense of chaos and struggle that marked the day. Obviously, Jamie Fraser had to be one of those characters; he’s a central figure of the story, and he’s a trained and very experienced soldier. So I contrived a way for him to be in command of a sizable (though informal) company of militia during the battle. Militia companies were normally fairly small bands of thirty to fifty men, who signed up for short enlistments and returned to their farms or businesses when the enlistment period ran out, and a great many militia companies joined the American army just before this battle--not all of them were documented, and thus it was entirely plausible for the temporarily-appointed General Fraser to be in command of several. So, Jamie would naturally see combat, both personally and as a commander. He’d be in communication with other commanders, and would know the proposed strategy, as well as specific moving goals as the battle was going on. And he’d be interacting with the soldiers under his command and responding to emergencies.  [NB:  Notice, through these examples, the sort of details that each character is conscious of and how they respond to them.] Example #1 (Jamie in the cider orchard) Then, of course, I wanted Claire. Both because she’d never leave Jamie on a battlefield alone again, and because as a surgeon, she’d have a completely different view of the battle. She’d be handling the wounded who came off the field, in a series of medical procedures/emergencies, but would also have a general sense of the battle as a whole, gained from the things the wounded men told her while she was treating them. Example #2 (Claire tending the wounded at Tennent Church) But we can’t overlook the other side of the conflict. What’s going on, on the British side? Well, we have a choice of POV characters on that side:  William, Lord John, and Hal. I used both William and Lord John (Lord John’s thread has been running through the whole book and the punch in the eye Jamie gave him at the beginning is affecting what happens to him throughout the battle and its aftermath). But while Jamie and Claire are carrying out fairly orthodox roles in the battle--a general in command/soldier on the field and a combat medic at a static aid station on the edge of the conflict--William and Lord John aren’t. William’s been relieved of duty and Lord John is essentially trying to stay alive long enough to reach the British lines. Both of them, in storytelling terms, can drop in or pass through just about any situation I need or want. They aren’t compelled to follow orders or fight through a set conflict; we get a revolving set of pictures of the British side of the conflict and its various personalities from them. And finally, there’s Ian Murray, Jamie’s nephew. He’s a scout for the American side, so is not fighting on the ground, but--like William and Lord John--can occur just about anywhere during the battle. And like William and Lord John, he’s fighting a personal battle (whereas Jamie and Claire are fighting the more usual kind of battle involving troops and military movements). So Jamie and Claire are providing a more or less structured view of things, while William, John and Ian are giving us the smaller, vivid glimpses that add both to the overall picture of the situation and to the encompassing sense of chaos. Or at least we hope that’s what happened… And to close this exegesis <g>--note that each character involved in this battle has his or her own arc within the battle: how they enter the battle, what happens to them, what decisions they make and what actions they take--and finally, how (and how altered) they emerge at the end of the fight. -------------------------------------------- Many thanks to Diana Gabaldon for taking the time for this very interesting interview! I really appreciate it.

It’s always interesting to read Diana’s comments on her own process, and I like what a fan of books she is.  

#diana gabaldon #outlander #book quotes

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #198

BTVS 7x14 First Date

Stray thoughts

1) I really don’t think Snyder would’ve gotten such a huge… oh, wait. Inferiority complex. Yep. He totally would.

2) I really don’t understand why Giles is so upset about Buffy having Spike’s chip removed? Like, he worked alongside Angel when he had a soul and not once did he show concern about Angel attacking them or going on a killing spree. Moreover, the chip had proven to be useless if Spike was under the influence of The First, so whether he had it or not was kind of a moot point at the moment.

Oh. I think maybe Giles was upset that Buffy didn’t check with him first. Like, how dare she make such an important decision without asking for my opinion?

3) Chao-Ahn is hands down my favorite potential. There’s no contest, really.

4) How convenient…

GILES I have to ask—why on Earth did you make that decision?

BUFFY Guess it was instinct, like you were talking about.

GILES I made that up!

5) It’s ironic that Giles accuses Buffy of letting her feelings cloud her judgment because I think that’s exactly what he was doing. Giles despised Spike, and I don’t blame him, he had reason to. But he was letting his hatred of Spike get in the way of seeing the bigger picture: if the First wanted Spike dead, then they should guard him at all costs because he might be a key player in defeating The First – as he rather obviously turned out to be…

GILES Buffy, I want more for you. Your feelings for him are coloring your judgment. I can hear it in your voice.

I’m not saying that Buffy’s feelings for Spike weren’t influencing her decision-making because they obviously were. But… Buffy’s emotions had always been her strength, her emotions are what drive her instinct, and the fact that she didn’t voice a logical reason to explain her choices doesn’t mean that they were wrong.

6) This is so me as a teacher...

PRINCIPAL WOOD Um, what're you doing tonight?

BUFFY Preparing for tomorrow's counseling sessions.

PRINCIPAL WOOD No, really.

BUFFY Watching a reality show about a millionaire.

7) Why would he keep his knife collection at the school, though? Doesn’t make any sense!

8) ICONIC!!

BUFFY You know, it's not even that he's acting that suspicious. It's just—there he is. On the hell mouth. All day, every day. That's got to be like being showered with evil. Only from underneath.

WILLOW Not really a shower.

9) That’s a clumsy way of admitting you once were…

WILLOW Right. Help you move on.

BUFFY Why does everybody in this house think I'm still in love with Spike?

10) I genuinely had to stop watching to laugh for a solid minute after this…

GILES Yes, and the language barrier is formidable. I was concerned that my Mandarin is a little thin, but as it turns out, she speaks Cantonese, which is thinner. But we muddled through, and, as I suspected, ice cream is a universal language.

BUFFY What'd she say?

GILES She's grateful to be in the land of plenty. 

11) Oh, the double standards…

ANDREW  Um, I follow Buffy's orders now. I'm redeeming myself for... killing you... I mean, for... killing Jonathan.

JONATHAN/FIRST Really, why? So you can earn a spot on her little pep squad? You think she'll ever let you in? You're a murderer.

ANDREW Confidentially, a lot of her people are murderers. Anya and Willow and Spike.

JONATHAN/FIRST Interesting. And you're the only one she makes seek redemption. Does that seem fair to you?

You forgot Giles on that list, Andrew.

12) I love the little callback to Conversations with Dead People…

BUFFY Well, it is unclear. That's why I chose a top that says, you know, I'm comfortable in a stodgy office or a swinging casual setting—or killing you, you know, if you're a demon.

ANYA It also says I sometimes get blood on my shoulder. Or it might be pizza. I don't think I can fix it.

13) Such a great delivery on Emma’s part here…

ANYA And I wasn't talking about your date anyway. I was talking about this sham date of Xander's. I think it's part of a plan to make me jealous.

BUFFY Well, it's not working.

ANYA Are you nuts? Of course it's working. Observe my bitter ranting. Hear the shrill edge of hysteria in my voice!

14) Oh, but he does care…

SPIKE Heard you got a date.

BUFFY Well, it's unclear. I mean, I have this whole theory about a promotion. Or he's evil.

SPIKE Buffy, I'm all right.

BUFFY You don't have to—

SPIKE What? Be noble? I'm not. Really, I'm all right. Think I still dream of a crypt for two with a white picket fence? My eyes are clear.

15) Oh, Xander, you’re still the same awkward dork you were seven seasons ago…

XANDER I'm just glad you're here. You're gonna love the coffee. Got myself a redeye—it's black coffee with a shot of espresso. It's kinda rough if you're not used to that sort of thing—

LISSA It's hot cocoa.

XANDER Well, sometimes I don't sleep too good.

16) ICONIC! So glad to see Giles’s gory doodles back, I fucking love them.

ANYA Giles made them for Chao-Ahn, and now she's locked herself in the bathroom. There’re other girls upstairs, and they're starting to complain.

GILES Those are flashcards. I made them to facilitate her training. Chao-Ahn never had a watcher. The language problem...

WILLOW You showed her these?

GILES I wanted her to understand the seriousness of her situation.

DAWN Holy crap!

17) Well, excuse you, Giles, but if I knew the world was going to end, I’d like to get laid. And seeing your flashcards is all the more reason to.

GILES For God's sake! How can anyone think about their social life? We are about to fight the original primal evil. These girls are in mortal danger. Didn't you see the flashcards? This isn't right.

18) I wonder why Xander doesn’t quite disclose exactly what was that he did to Anya… could it be that he knows is way worse than “bad” and he doesn’t want to seem like a douche in front of the girl he’s flirting with? I’ve said it before, I don’t necessarily disagree with Xander’s decision not to get married – although he truly picked the second to worst possible moment to do it. That being said, if you did the deed, own up to it, call it for what it was – you left your girlfriend at the altar.

19) It’s nice to hear Robin’s “origin” story, so to speak, but I felt the scene was lacking emotion and gravity. This was kind of a big revelation as far as the Slayer lore goes, you know? But it’s a scene that just goes under the radar.

Anyway, I also feel it would be very unlikely for Robin not to know Spike was the vampire that killed his mother before coming to Sunnydale. He says he was raised by a watcher, and we know there were written records about the Fanged Four. Plus, we know how Spike loved to brag, so if he truly tried to track him down, he would’ve found him.

20)

21) I still don’t see why they would take ANYTHING the First said at face value! Like, Giles hears this…

SPIKE Why did it appear to this one, then? I thought it was supposed to be pulling my strings.

ANDREW It said it wasn't time for you yet.

…and you can see that he’s thinking: “I’m right, he’s a danger to us all, we have to get rid of him immediately!”

But why would The First disclose its real intentions to any of them, especially the ones it’s trying to manipulate?

It’s just so dumb that they couldn’t read the First’s intentions properly, especially Giles of all people, it annoys me.

22) I find this moment really funny, but when exactly did Xander manage to send the bat signal? Or did he send the “I just got lucky” signal and thankfully they interpreted it wrong?

WILLOW No, it's a text message. Oh, it's from Xander. It's one of our signals.

AMANDA Signals?

WILLOW Yeah, the system we set up a while back. Like codes. Uh, this one's either "I just got lucky, don't call me for a while" or "my date's a demon who's trying to kill me."

KENNEDY You don't remember which?

WILLOW It was a long time ago.

DAWN Well, if we play the percentages...

GILES Something's eating Xander's head.

23) #awkward

24) And how annoying is it that Robin keeps LOOKING at Spike in the rear-view mirror? You’re not supposed to see anything in the mirror because he’s a vampire, ya mook! And if you happen to look in the mirror and not see someone who should be there, don’t you think you’d go “ooh”?

(btw, before anyone suggests this, he's not pretending he doesn’t know because later on when they’re fighting, Spike turns, and he goes: “you’re a vampire” all surprised!)

25) All you need to know about this scene, you’ll find it here.

26) This scene is glorious!

27) This is probably one of my favorite whole-gang dialogues in the show.

WILLOW What happened?

XANDER What do you think happened? Another demon woman was attracted to me. I'm going gay. I've decided I'm turning gay. Willow, gay me up. Come on, let's gay.

WILLOW What?

XANDER You heard me. Just tell me what to do. I'm mentally undressing Scott Bakula right now. That's a start, isn't it?

ANDREW Captain Archer...

XANDER Come on, let's get this gay show on the gay road. Help me out here.

BUFFY What if you just start attracting male demons?

DAWN Clem always liked you.

ANYA It would serve you right.

GILES Children, enough.

XANDER I'd need some stylish new clothes.

28) I think Giles’ speech would’ve resonated better if he hadn’t picked up the flashcards again, I mean, come on…

But in all seriousness, I get that he wants them to focus and he might have a good point that they seem to be distracted with trifles. But… don’t you think they needed that? Don’t you think amidst all the death and danger and apocalypses they’d want to have at least some crumbs of normalcy? Don’t you think that’s what has kept them sane and helped them plow through it all?

But let’s keep this reaction in mind for future episodes, okay? Let’s try and remember how Giles’s speech might have affected Buffy and the way she handled herself as a leader moving forward, okay?

29) I’m just going to leave this here…

SPIKE It, uh, it talked to the little boy. Said it wasn't time for me yet. I should move out. Leave town before it is time for me.

BUFFY No, you have to stay.

SPIKE You've got another demon fighter now.

BUFFY That's not why I need you here.

SPIKE Is that right? Why's that then?

BUFFY 'Cause I'm not ready for you to not be here.

30) This woman is just… stunningly beautiful.

31) Again, why would you believe whatever the ultimate evil has to tell you? I mean, this time, it was the truth, but Robin had no way of knowing that, and he immediately believes it? Everyone’s so dumb, it makes me angry.

32) I should probably re-read my recaps and figure out exactly when I started to get so pissed because I think I’m becoming angrier and angrier at the characters with each episode that I rewatch and I’m not even on Empty Places yet. I dread that moment.

33) If you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#Buffy the Vampire Slayer #BTVS #Buffy Summers #Spike #Xander Harris #Robin Wood #MTVSepicrewatch #BTVSrewatch2015 #mine #recap #First Date #btvsrecap

[itsnotresilience]

How I Talk About Trauma

Inspired by early 2010 essay “why me and why now”

I recently mentioned to friend that I have nearly 30 years worth of memoir essays stashed mostly in expertly hidden journals and spiral bound notebooks throughout my home. I hadn’t ever really mentioned to anyone, really, ever. I have/had no intention of ever doing anything with my often rambling stories mixed with poetry and observation. This friend gave me just enough encouragement and expressed just enough curiosity that I decided to go back and see if I had enough to cobble together a cohesive creative memoir piece.

I’m not the sort of gal who thinks people are all that interested in reading about my life. I’m afraid of their judgment and wonder how easily my style of oversharing and conversational prose will sit with them. I do know that people are interested in hearing my stories. I’ll often make some self-deprecating comment in passing, only to find myself explaining my comment through some story about a personal traumatic event. In these moments, I’m at my most vulnerable, letting people in to see behind the curtain, hoping for their empathy and secretly desiring that they find inspiration in the “Meghan then versus Meghan now” of it all. There’s an additional must mention element to sharing our stories that didn’t exist to the same extent when I wrote the essay that inspired this one and definitely was an issue for the vast majority of my other still-buried writings, social media. The proliferation of social media and the encompassing issues around what we share, how we share, who sees it and any potential impacts can’t be ignored. The fear of the judgment and ugliness of the keyboard armies can’t be understated. There are people who will define you by what you share and their are people who will use your vulnerability to their advantage for whatever perverse enjoyment they get out of destroying the lives of other for attention. This is a very real fear to me as I write this now, trusting the reader with my feelings and saying always with an asterisk, this is my life as I was/am living it. This is my perspective, interpretation/reinterpretation of events that in some cases happened 30 years ago. Anyone who says they remember something exactly how it happened even 5 years ago, especially a traumatic event, well- I wouldn’t call them a liar, it’s an important piece of my thinking I’m sharing here- but I would say it’s likely someone else from their life remembers it slightly differently and recalls a drastically different set of outcomes and experiences. It’s important I mention that because so often when people publish personal essays or memoirs the colloquial “that didn’t happen that way” or “that’s not what I remember” comments almost always occur. So I say with an asterisk that this essay discusses events and feelings as I remember them, colored by my perspective then versus now and altered by my overall ability to be subjective or objective about what was going on. You may remember me differently. You may have seen me a different way than I actually felt. I may have lied to you (more on that later). I may be lying to myself (lots more on that later). I may be remembering different timeframes and my reactions and confusing them, so let’s talk about that now.

When we talk about trauma, communally, socially or even in mass media, we often hear it, see it, experience it, as a story arch. The beginning is the traumatic event/s, the middle is either the present or the immediate outcome, and the ending is either the present or the big reveal of why present person is who present person is. In the sneakiest depictions, we may not know what the real trauma story is until the very end and you find yourself pointing at the screen ( I did this last week myself) and saying, “I knew it! I knew all along that’s what really happened!” This is called the unreliable narrator. The story is told first person subjective so you are experiencing the events as the narrator remembers and experiences them and possibly not the way they happened. This leads us to feel mislead but there’s an important aspect of how our brains operate at work here. Our brains are designed to help us survive. It’s a hard wired evolutionary instinct. What that means from a trauma aspect is that the brain often finds a way to cope with trauma, whether it sudden or long-lasting trauma. That coping mechanism, often defined in the most simple terms is flight or fight. I’m not a fan of either term because experience tells me it’s not simple to know if your brain is “flighting or fighting”. You may not physically run away and you may not physically fight back. Trauma response just isn’t that simple, it’s hard for me to understand, even years later what my brain was doing and somethings I don’t recall at all or come to me in the most obscure or totally in-opportune times. I will say that what I’m about to share and most of what I share is a form of flight and this flight always makes me an unreliable narrator. Those closest to me have heard me say, likely way too many times, I do not trust myself as the narrator of my own story. That’s a sad and scary place to be. I do think my brain remembers thing in ways that make them easier for me to deal with. Repression has a way of creating a false sense of yourself and the way things were. That’s why we feel tricked as an audience. We feel we weren’t showed what really happened. The truth is we are shown almost always what some observer think happened from their perspective. We can often collect similar observations and determine a set of common descriptions and then say, we now have the factual actual occurrence but it’s still really not what happened. If we had some omnipotent recording system that was unfiltered and unedited by any human then we could potentially see what actually happened all the time but I guarantee at least one person would still pipe up and say, “that’s not what happened at all”. Anyway, as you’re reading and if you see anything that you do think happened some other way, I want to hear from you. Not so we can argue because as I just explained, I’m more likely to believe YOU than my own memories, but so we can share how we both experienced that same event.

Ok. So recently I’ve been doing some pretty deep work on managing my response to trauma. After 20+ years of therapy, I feel like an expert patient who’s finally having an “aha” moment. That moment isn’t refreshing or relieving, it can take weeks of introspection on a tiny realization for me to get anywhere with it but I guess, unluckily, I have lots of time for isolated introspection. This is another important point for my long term friends who know I have a deep fear of alone time. Not the few hours at the end of a work day alone time, but weeks or months of mostly alone time. These kinds of alone time usually send me on the dark and anxious paths of my mind and I start doing whatever I can to avoid the paths and avoid the dark, mainly because when I allow myself to live in the dark and anxiety- very bad things happen. I know that sounds ominous, but it will make much more sense later. For now, just know that being alone means putting my sanity at risk. This year made being alone unavoidable and finding a peace with that, a way to introspect, to accept my darkness and then force myself to sit with it has been my challenge.

Fairly recently, friends have been sending me podcasts, books, meditations, TedTalks, and even virtual webinar recordings focused on mental health issues. I love all of it to be frank. Not the material itself, sometimes it doesn’t really speak to me, but I love that I have that community, one that I know I fostered just by being vulnerable and shining a light on my own struggles with mental health. I wasn’t always receptive to these suggestions- I felt criticized and judged- like am I that crazy people think I need more help? Eventually I realized it’s love. Someone is sharing something that helped them and frankly that’s what inspires this essay on an essay too. This helped me. You may not write but maybe just reading it will help you.

The first line of my early 2010 essay which isn’t dated until page 3 (this tells me I wrote an entire section much earlier based on content, then came back and finished it) was “why me”. This is a common thought pattern well established by a seeming luck to be unlucky. There’s years that I’ve said, maybe next year so much bad shit won’t happen, most of the time maybe slightly less shit happens but I’m likely to remember it all as constant shit anyway. I’ll remember a slightly more nostalgic time frame, only to remember, oh but XYZ happened too, so that wasn’t a good time. The difference in 2020 is everyone had a “shit what else could happen” year so it was the first time I didn’t feel so alone in that. There’s an exhaustion in one crazy whatever happening after another that I felt less alone in. That’s doesn’t mean I’m happy we are all sharing in a long term trauma event but it is less isolating to know we are in this together, even if our individual situations are different.

Any hoo, back to why me. The why me of 2009 to 2012 was cervical and ovarian cancer. The why me was quitting my MBA program. The why me was my marriage falling apart. The why me was finally, my career falling apart too. It’s still hard to talk about how I felt during that time. Most of the time, I felt nothing. In fact, I say that over and over in my 2010 essay. I felt nothing for no one, not even myself. However I know some of my friends from that time, just read that line and thought, no you were all over the place, all the time, emotionally. I felt nothing. It was like I was a walking emotion that didn’t actually exist inside. Let’s call it dissociation or flight from trauma. Things were happening, I was a walking talking person but my soul, my sense of self, were somewhere else. Without even knowing it, I glassed myself off from what was happening and didn’t feel genuine pain or sadness. I did, but really I didn’t, I really wasn’t there for it. I couldn’t today tell you what my body experienced as I just remember the raw emotional expressions but again I didn’t actually feel them. I know if you were there, you remember them too.

I spend several paragraphs talking about how much I’m hiding from everyone and how afraid I am I’ll be found out ( yup! That happened). What’s odd is I’m not sad that I’m clearly isolating myself. I see that so clearly now. My fear of rejection and abandonment created a situation where I was extremely isolated and feeling- rejected and abandoned. I read all the things I thought were good ideas in order to keep up appearances but also know all that was a total failure pretty much the entire time. I had many epic public breakdowns. There was no charade at all. I didn’t pull the wool over anyone’s eyes . Absolutely zero people thought I had my shit together. So why? Why did I hide so much that could’ve helped me get through this?!? Why did I lie to my friends and family? Why did I not ask for help, and in lots of cases, refuse help only to drop my ignored broken life shit on someone else to manage? Because I was lying to myself too.

I’ve always believed there’s a “most people” and excluded myself from this category. Not because I think I’m some extraordinary soul, just the opposite. I often think “most people” have this shit figured out and wouldn’t act this way. Well, maybe but probably not. How someone reacts to any given set of circumstances is related to how many and how bad the circumstances they’ve managed have been. What if nothing else bad had happened in my life and I had just gotten cancer in my early thirties? Hard to say how I would have managed if that had been my only big bad thing ever. Maybe I still wouldn’t have coped because I had no learned coping skills. It wasn’t my first rodeo with a big bad thing though and the coping skills I had “learned” were super effective for short term, violent trauma, but completely ineffective for long term can’t check out from life trauma. No one tells you that, by the way, no one tells you that your coping skills suck. When we hear about trauma we are so focused on outcome we rarely talk about the way there.

Page 3 of my essay is pretty bad. I’ll likely edit it out of memoir existence but a few things are clear. In January 2010 I wrote, I can’t do this anymore. Until I read this I recalled my last suicidal expression as being in 2003. This makes me doubt my narration that I only expressed suicidal depression during isolated timeframes. I want to say it’s because I didn’t want to remember I was there in 2010. The other thing very clear on page 3 is desperation. Knowing that I spent another two years in that state isn’t comforting. I wrote, “I feel desperate for love. Desperate for understanding. Desperate for stability.” Just the other day,I said that again, I just want to be and feel normal. But normal is subjective to your perspective and what I’m living could be a good and acceptable life for a good number of people. I haven’t yet learned flipping that mindset. That sense that, god damn it, this isn’t normal. If anything, social media has only made that comparison syndrome worse. The glossy beings we all present on FB and Instagram all have little bearing to our inner selves. I can never win in a comparison to a manufactured brand of someone else. That doesn’t mean I think you’re fake. It means I know I sanitize my life for public consumption so I’m fairly certain others do too. This comparison takes you out of what you’re living and into what you could or should be, so it’s also an escape, a flight from what is happening.

By page four, I’m planning, I’m planning on burning every bridge, breaking every perceived enemy, and leaving my life in ruins. I’m fantasizing about how everyone will regret how they treated me. I remember this feeling. It’s probably the only one I connect with from that time-rage. I was grieving so many things in that space but not working through it. I clearly am mad because I wrote, “fuck this life. I’m sick of all of it.” At this date, I knew I needed a plan to try to get out of everything. It felt like an emergency. I spent the next two years making every bad decision I possibly could. It’s like when there’s a fire but there’s nothing but lighter fluid, so you desperately use lighter fluid. There’s lots of things I know are in another essay for another time about 2010-2012. We have time to talk about self-hatred taking the form of destructive behavior. It’s clear my self hate was already at play here,

And this is the part I wanted to share, I forgot about this until it came up in therapy the other day. Late 2009 I had an abortion. I didn’t forget that I had it, but I told myself, and likely you a different story. A story that felt safe and relatable but I so convinced myself of that story that I knew I was lying when I talked about it to my counselor. The story is there though written on page 5 and it’s most likely the truest one. When I got pregnant, I wasn’t thinking about my diagnosis. If I told you at all that I was pregnant and lost it, I likely said it just like that. I was pregnant and miscarried. However, none of that was the truth. The truth is, I knew my marriage was over. I knew I hated my husband and our fake shared life. I knew I didn’t want to deal with him for the next 18 plus years of my life. I was also plagued by the knowledge I was too fucked up to be a good mom to anyone, likely ever. I was 100% convinced I should never have kids. In a fit of rage, I scheduled to get the pill and then purposefully planned it when my husband was out of town, I went through that by myself as some sort of sick means of punishment for all the bad things I felt I was. So here I am writing this 2010 essay and I write, “I’m a horrible human being that has no soul”. It’s important that you know, reader, I didn’t tell my husband. There’s a part of me that believes I saved that information to tell him at the moment it would most hurt (yes, I did that). That kind of rage, I don’t wish on anyone, ever.

So let’s talk about rage and trauma before I wrap this up and you all walk away disappointed at the resilient image you may have had of me until today. I don’t know if rage is fight or flight. Rage feels like an escape to me, but I was also fighting for my life. Everything felt so out of control and “happening to me”. I felt desperate to escape that and BE IN CONTROL. The lies we tell ourselves are to survive. We tell ourselves this isn’t so bad, it justified, or it will pass. What if I hadn’t lied? I will live with that regret for a long time, along with questioning my basic human decency. I am choosing to not excuse my behavior beyond saying, if you’ve ever felt that scared, desperate and full of rage you may see the desire to lash out or the desire to run away as explainable.

This last little bit may redeem me, so hold tight. You may wonder why talk about all this now. Because then is now. Not on that level of crazy messed up shit, but that girl/woman is still inside me. We are all living through a trauma, a shared one. Many of us read that sentence and think, that’s so melodramatic. It’s really not. If any of the following things happened to you in 2020 raise your hand:

Job loss/furlough/early retirement

Relationship status change

Relocation

Financial hit from work/ revenue loss

Loss of social circle

Loss of a friend/family/significant other

Severe illness/surgery/ injury/medical issues

Isolation

Not being able to go to restaurants/gyms/ or other spaces that give you joy

Anxiety over job/finances

Fear of a pandemic

Difficulty in relationships due to politics, religion or pandemic

Anxiety about the future

Cancelled/rescheduled/reimagined vacations, celebrations, holidays, life events

We really are in this together. We’ve all experienced some level of change and trauma this year. What if we chose compassion? What if I told you we can learn from our trauma? That resilience isn’t just about where I am now and everything I’ve accomplished. What if the trauma story arch finished with me, saying to you, it may take a long time to get better? What if I shared my stories with more people and told them that there’s a more successful way then just getting through and overachieving to compensate for trauma? Do you have to have some major come back to be the hero of your own story? Trauma healing is a journey. Some things take longer than others, some things you cope and have to deal with the outcome later, but it’s not punishment. It didn’t take me 10 years to rebuild my life because I deserve punishment. It took me ten years to rebuild my life because I had and still have other traumas that have come along and forced me to confront my coping mechanism. There’s no hiding and running away from me, I’m always there, getting in my own way. It’s not enough to live, I want to thrive. Thriving is about accepting and forgiving all those younger selves who did the best they could with the tool set I allowed them to have. If you give a young child a new tool, do they know how to use it or do they poke at it and bang it on things trying to figure out it’s purpose? You parents know the answer. Children are innately curious but depending on age, also short of patience. They will move on to something else if they see no use to a tool. What’s required is instruction. We learn to cope by watching those around us and I’m gonna be frank and say American culture sucks at coping. Again, it’s not about the outcome! The journey. The journey. Everyday I get up and I continue the journey. I get pissed off, saddened by setbacks, I fall into old familiar brain paths, I vent, I introspect,I forgive myself and keep trying. Stick with me, we’ll get stronger.

[lubdubsworld]

Under my skin (Namjoon/Oc)

Chapter 5

"What do you wear to a non date? You know where you go out with a guy but you don't want him to think it's a date? Because you're not into him that way… " I say casually, watching my roommate as she digs through her closet , wrapped in a fluffy white towel .

 She's got an interview in a few hours and she gives me a look of long-suffering, eyes hooded and mouth twisting downwards in displeasure.

 "Ae Rin-ah, you know how I feel about your stunted emotions , your lack of a love life and your fashion sense, why would you put all three of those things in one sentence, it makes me nauseous.." She mutters.

 "Don't be a bitch. Come on, toss me a bone here."

 "Is this the back up dancer you've been sleeping with?" She says with a frown, laying out her own outfit and then going back in to dig through her clothes. As a fashion major she usually had an excess of dresses and t shirts and pants lying around. 

"Uh…" I hesitate just a bit. " Not exactly. "

“Then?”

“it’s his friend.” I mutter under my breath. Jiah frowns deeper and pulls out three dresses, decent calf length gowns with stitched hems and puffy, flowy sleeves. They look decidedly feminine and i wrinkle my nose. 

“How close of a friend are we talking here? Your fuck buddy is okay with you going around with his friend?” 

“It’s not that serious. Remember that cafe I told you about? The one in Gangnam? He’s got tickets for the weekly exhibit and I just want to see it!” I say briskly, grabbing a periwinkle blue dress and holding it up against my body. i’m not fashinably thin, but not exactly voluptuous either. The wide neckline would be wasted on me. 

“Wait, is this the same exhibition you’ve been salivating over for  years ? The one where you can’t get tickets unless you’re super rich or super connected or something?” 

“Yup..” i hum, reaching for the next gown. It’s a soft pink, not garish or overdone and i like it. There’s some lacy white overlay near the neck and pink bows on the sleeves and Jesus, is that a satin bowtie? It’s definitely girly though, and I feel like a little feminity never hurts, you know? 

Except when I hold it up, it falls a few inches short of my knee. Too much skin. 

Rejected. 

Jiah let out a low whistle.

“He got you tickets to a show like that? That sounds very.. romantic and date-y? Okay, does  he  know you’re not into him.??”

I make a noise of impatience. 

“Of course, I told him that.” 

“then why do you feel the need to convey it through oyour clothes as well? if you guys already talked about it, and he knows you’re not interested him, then wear whatever you feel like.” She sounds perfectly sensible, of course , but I still feel a cloying sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. i don’t know what it is that’s triggering all these negative emoitons in me. 

“I just...Wanna be safe i guess. I don’t know ... i don’t want to hurt either of them.” I say, feeling silly. there’s nothing to be hurt here, i think firmly. there’s no prospect of a serious relationship with either of them anyway. it’s absolutely foolish to even think of something like that. 

they’re superstars. 

I’m a struggling photographer who takes pictures of them. Yoongi just.. well, he likes me for a quick lay, possibly because I could hold a conversation with him when he wanted me to. 

And Namjoon... Namjoon was...

“Ae Rin? Rin.. You listening?!”

I startle, blinking back to focus on her. 

“Uh.. yeah?”

“I said, don’t be the reason their friendship gets shot to hell. it’s a shitty thing to do. “ She says firmly and I nod absently, reaching for the burgundy gown with the lace lining. it looked classy, perfect for a photo exhibit. 

“I’m not getting involved with either of them.” I say firmly, testing the soft silk of the gown. it looks expensive too, texture like flowing water over my fingers. 

“So you say. But honestly, you know that these sex only relationships are never that, right? You end up catching feelings in the end and then it all gets shot to hell. You don’t want that distraction...” 

You see , over the years, I’v realized something. 

Jiah is smart. 

And I’m a reckless fool. 

I ignore her warning and get dressed slowly, texting my location to Namjoon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He picks me up in a blue Porsche Cayenne. I fidget uncontrollably as he comes around to open the car door for me, dressed in fitting blue jeans and a plain white button down, face hidden by a mask and hair swept up underneath his fedora. He looks like an idol, even without the fanfare, body taut and firm: all 181 cm of him. 

He greets me normally, because he’s a normal human being, while I try not to feel like an bull in a china shop, fumbling over my syllables like an idiot. 

“You’re late.” I blurt out stupidly and his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling. It’s a shame i can’t catching sight of the dimples that are no doubt underneath that mask.  

He’s incredibly tall, up close and i struggle to feel less like a bug as he helps me into the seat, the musky scent of expensive perfume and clean male skin hitting me in all the right places . Or should I say , wrong places.

“I’m sorry, I was held up a bit by traffic. I hope you’ll forgive me. ” He whispers, eyes fixing on mine with alarming force. It’s almost physically restrictive,. his gaze. Like arms gripping my waist and pinning me to the seat.

Breathing has never been harder.

It’s new and terrifying, this foreign feeling of nervousness and guilt. And it confuses me completely. Namjoon isn’t the sort of person I usually admire. 

Not to say he isn’t attractive.

 He’s intensely masculine, unforgivingly male and there’s just this something in him that would make any girl want to... get down on her knees .

For not-so innocent reasons. 

And that scares me. 

Attarction is one thing : but something about Namjoon tells me he’s dangerous.All consuming. The sort of person who would demand too much. Demand it all. He would probably want to  own  the girl he got together with. 

Well, if you had to belong to someone, he’s not a bad choice  a voice snickers in the back of my mind.

 i know that voice. It’s the same voice that makes me follow idols to five star hotels and let them take naked photos of me. That voice is not to be trusted.

When he slips behind the car wheel, I can’t help but stare at his veiny forearms, the quiet strength of his fingers as he grips the wheel. He’s a confident driver but not cautious like Yoongi. There’s a bit of a rashness in the way he drives, not wild per se but just a little out of the comfort zone. 

 You know what they say about the way a man drives and the way he is in bed,  the voice is back, this time too loud.  Namjoon looks like he could be into some freaky stuff. 

My face is flaming red and I already wish I’d just refused him. 

“The Photographer this week is In Sook Kim... You like her right? I read that she’s your favorite photographer” He says casually and I pull myself together. 

“Read?”

“Your thesis on Florence. It was published in that magazine... i read it.” 

“ She talks about a lot of things : abstarct stuff that people ususlaly tend to ignore. i love that about her. She makes me feel like, ... even if i’m not someone famous or well-known...i’m still special. I want to recreate that sometimes.... ” I say softly, momentarily forgetting my nervousness. 

“She’s done a lot of projects...” 

“I studied one of them. Muses... it came out in 2004. “ I smile brightly. 

“The one with the women from the S and M club?” He smiles faintly, reaching out to take his mask off and it’s a bit like getting a floodlight shoved into my face, the sharp features and the bright gaze.

“uh.. yeah.. That one.. You know it?” i’m surprised. 

“Of course. it’s one of her famous works. I have two copies of it on my bedroom wall.” 

I try not to think of him on his bed , staring up at photos of submissive women in a Sado-Masochism club. 

But i can’t control my face and he laughs. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a conservative woman? “

“I.. no .. of course not. To each their own.” I say swiftly. 

“Hmm... Personally , i think everyone should try BDSM , once .” He shakes his head. 

I struggle to draw in my next breath. 

“I.. uh.. yeah, sure.” 

He must’ve caught the way my voice stuttered. 

“Am i making you uncomfortable?” He looks very unapologetic, almost amused. 

 Very much.

“Not at all. But then, not everyone is like that” I say almost defensively. The very phrase brings out a visceral reaction in me. I’ve seen woman hand over control to men. i’ve seen men take that control, take that power and break that woman down till she stops existing. 

“Like what?” He sais gently.

I bite my lips. 

“Weak and submissive.” i say finally. 

Namjoon laughs out loud

“Weak Submissives? There’s no such thing as a weak submissive, Ae Rin ssi... Submissives are usually very strong people. People who are strong enough to trust their Dom with themselves.” He turned slightly, something challenging in his gaze. 

I swallow. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” I snap. “ I’m not one!” 

He makes a soft , soothing sound that oddly comforts me. 

“I’m sorry if that ruffles your feathers,  aegi , I just made a general observation.”

Aegi? did he just call me aegi? I'm not his baby!! . I should be mad, I thought trying to summon up some irritation at the phrase. But all i can feel is warmth spreading out to my toes. 

“I... I’m sorry too. I just.. I shouldn’t have snapped.” I say feeling oddly scolded. 

“Let’s talk something fun, where would you like to have dinner tonight? I have reservation for a Chinese, A Thai and a Continental Place. You pick.” He smiles brightly. 

We talk a bit about our favorites and decide on the Thai place, by which time we’ve reached the cafe. 

As we pull up to the entrance. i glance at the board set up on front. The place is oddly empty and uncrowded which was surprising because the cafe is usually bustling with people. 

 Private Viewing Scheduled. Visitors Prohibited. 

“What?” I say confused when he comes around and helps me out. 

“I’m sorry...I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.. i hope you’ll enjoy this.” He says almost apologetically and i fellt my heart leap into my throat as I follow him into the loungue. The staff greet Namjoon with familiarity, even hugging him. 

“Is she here?” He says brightly and my heart stops. 

“No.. No!1 Kim Namjoon, No!!” I hiss, stunned. 

“You said you like her! You can tell her that in person. She’s in the last room. “

“You.. You’re not..?”

“coming with? Of course not! This is your present. Enjoy it to the fullest.” He smiles brightly. “ I’ll be right here. You can take as long as you want. Our reservation isn’t till eight. That gives you..” He glances at his watch “ Four hours at least.” 

I stare at him, fighting the overwhelming urge to fling myself into his arms . 

“I .. Thank you...I...”

“You can thank me by buying me ice cream the next time we go out.” He smiles and the casual way he tells me he wants to meet me again isn’t entirely lost on me. 

I try to ignore my pounding , breathless heart and move to the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t take me four hours. I spend an hour and twenty minutes with the lady, a bright middle aged woman with a pleasant smile. She’s very humble and answers my question with a lot of patience. 

“I don’t usually meet fans or attend private schedulings. But Namjoon’s mother is an old friend and he’s never called me in for a favor before.” She smiles, when I finally shake hands with her to bid her farewell. 

“I.. Thank you. I had such a great time.” My find feels like a well soaked sponge with all the information I’ve crammed into it. She had been kind enough to let me record some of her more complicated ideas, the ones I was afraid I would forget once i got home. 

“He told me you’re interested in an internship, now that you’ve finished your Degree. My studio does take interns... You’re welcome to apply with your portfolio.” She smiles then and i know my jaw has hit the floor. 

“I... really? Are you serious? I mean.. i’m not that good!! ” I’m too stunned to respond properly. 

“Of course. And don’t be so hard on yourself. You got that scholarship didn’t you? The same scholarship, I myself failed to get .” She winks. 

I nod , feeling lost and overwhelmed. 

“I’ll send it in...I will. Thank you so much.” I say softly. 

“Namjoon’s a nice kid. Bit old fashioned , but a nice kid. I hope you treat him well.” She says gently, her eyes warm and soft and it scares me momentarily, the sincerity in her tone. My throat goes try and i quickly shake my head. 

“Oh, no... No! We’re not together. I.. i have a boyfriend!” I say stupidly. She looks surprised.

“Oh.. really? I assumed... When namjoon said... Oh well,” She looks very confused but smiles. “ I’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.” She finishes awkwardly. 

When I leave the room, my mind is still running in circles. I’m not an idiot. I know that Namjoon isn’t one either. What he’s done today... it goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. Far beyond it. 

And it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever felt. Fingers trembling, I make my way to the loungue where I know he’s waiting. He catches sight of me and if i needed anymore proof , it’s there in the way his face lights up when he sees me, twin dimples lighting up on his face. 

i can’t summon up the smile that I ought to give him. In it’s place is liquid terror, spreading through my veins. 

 What are you seeing, when you see me? A pretty young girl with a bright dream? That’s not who i am! There are so many demons inside my skull... they’ll destroy you if you come anywhere near me , Namjoon -ah...

“Hey! Did you have fun....” His smile fades when he sees me and I stop trying to hide it. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He says nervously and i swallow. 

“I.. I’m fine. I was just wondering how Yoongi would have enjoyed the exhibit too ” I lie blatantly and it’s funny, how he wears his heart on his sleeve, how his mile gets wiped off his lips and hie eyes lose that sparkle. 

“Thank you for today. I learned so much from her . She even told me I could apply to be an intern and..” I babble mindlessly . 

Namjoon stares at me for a long moment. 

“I'm happy that you’re happy.”  He says softly and I feel out of my depth. 

Later as we sit down to dinner, he tells me about his family, his dog and his little sister. 

“What about your family?” He says casually reaching across the table to refill my wine glass. 

“Uh.. My parents died when I was six.” I say softly. “ I grew up with my stepfather , till I got the scholarship to study in Seoul univ.”

“Is he still around?”

“Uh...I wish he wasn’t.” I say before I can put a stopper on my thoughts. Namjoon glances up sharply and his dimples peek out.

“Ah... that explains a lot.”

“Sorry?”

“the distrust... the way you always keep glancing at the door ... the way you steer the conversation away from amything personal. I bet you’re one of those rare girls who think that a dinner date is far more intimate that a night of hot and heavy sex...” He smiles thoughtfully. I’m momentarily stunned into silence. 

“That’s not... I’m not like that...” I say sharply. 

“It’s not a flaw. Plenty of girls out there have daddy issues. Most of them, in fact. “ He shrugs. 

i feel suddenly affronted.

“I do not have Daddy issues, what the fuck...” The words are out before I can stop myself and he grins. 

“That’s more like it.” He whispers.

“What?” I snap.

“This is more like you. the swearing, The blazing eyes. The heaving breasts. you look like a goddess when you’re angry. You’ve been wearing a mask this evening and I really wish you’d be yourself with me. ” He leans forward and I resist the urge to toss the wine on his face.

“You’re insufferable...i want to leave.” I almost stand but his hand shoots out and grips my wrist, so tight that I whimper, the sound strangled out of me. 

“Don’t be scared, baby. I'm just being honest He whispers. 

“This isn’t a date. Stop calling me that.” I grit out. He lets my wrist go and I wipe at the skin moodily. 

“I know it isn’t a date. I never said it was. “ He shrugs. And then he looks up and there’s a flash of something in his gaze.

“But I hope the next one will be.” He says softly. 

I stare at him and suddenly it strikes me how foolish I’ve been. Of course he’s going to be just like the rest of them.

“You want to have sex with me?” I say blankly. 

“I want to get to know you. To date you... “ He corrects me, leaning forward. 

“You don’t have to splurge for another date. I could blow you in the rest room if you like.” I say it just to shock him but it angers him instead.

“Shut up. Yell back at me if you want... don’t fucking degrade yourself like that. You’re worth far more than a blowjob in a rest room, you silly fool.” He snarls. The words momentarily frighten me. 

“Well, that’s where you’re fucking wrong. I’m not worth ‘ more’. And I’m going to pass on the date. i already have a fuck buddy.” I say softly , leaning back. 

“Yoongi hyung? I know you don’t feel anything for him... You’re using him .You think he’s a safe bet because he’ll never ask for more than what you give. But me...I scare you” He smiles softly and it’s frightening how accurate he is. 

I laugh in disbelief. 

“You think you’re better than him? He took me to the Park Hyatt on our first date..He booked the honeymoon suite for 5000 dollars that night.....i’ve already slept with him a dozen times. i don’t even know you that well.  “ I sound snobbish but the urge to wipe that smirk off his face is overwhelming.

Namjoon smiles.

“Yoongi hyung has a scar on his shoulder. Which one? Left or right?” He smiles.

“What?” I blink. 

“The scar on his shoulder.... which shoulder...?

“I..” I stop drawing a complete blank. did he have a scar? 

“The curtains in your honeymoon suite... do you remember what color they were? “ He smiles , “ the bedsheets.. were they satin or silk...? Do you remeber the conversation you had with him during dinner? Do you remeber what he was wearing that night?” 

It feels a bit like I’ve been sucker punched. i don’t remember any of those stuff. Had never felt the need to ..

“i.. That’s.. Those are physical things.. they don’t mean anything...”

“Oh they would. If Yoongi means anything... those things would mean something too.... But we both know he doesn’t...” 

“Stop.. Namjoon...”

“Give me a chance, Ae Rin.” He says firmly, leaning forward. 

“Take me home.”

“Ae Rin.”

“We’re done. Take me home. Now!!”.

He doesn’t protest. But when he drops me off, his face is somber. 

“I’m not going to back off.” He whispers. 

“Good night Kim namjoon ssi.” 

#bts namjoon #bts fanfics #rap monster #kim namjoon #bts imagines

[karinrumi]

Gambler of Feelings - Chapter 18

Title: Gambler of Feelings.

Rating: T

Status: Ongoing.

Wordcount: 3, 893.

It had to stop. Those hallucinations and dreams about Boruto had to stop! In Sarada's mind, it suddenly made sense why her friend behaves over-the-top when she thinks she's in love. Sarada had no responsibility to heal Boruto from his emotional scars just because of him helping her feel better.

Love is scary. That's the thought that appears when her expectations and stupid things invade her mind. Sarada managed to avoid Boruto just for one day. Not that it mattered, since she would go to buy a new mobile phone with him today. As much as her inner feelings were a total mess, there's no way for her to avoid him without appearing fickle. Not to mention after they both talked it out and agreed to be friends. 

"Pull yourself together, Sarada! You started like Boruto for Boruto not a dream version of him." Yes, that's right. In the moments of confusion about what's happening with her usual stoic behaviour, Sarada used these words to remind herself why she's head-over-heels for the guy in the first place. 

Taking the fancy red shirt knee-length black skirt and espadrilles in her hands was natural for Sarada. She wasn't over-thinking what to wear. At least tried not to, since her meeting with Boruto wasn't supposed to be a date. But the two friends casually meeting with each other. Just friends. 

Sarada always tried to plan how to use her time to prepare. Maybe that's why she was ready to go out relatively quickly, so her appearing first in the school as well clubroom wasn't anything new. With a stoic expression on her face, no-one could guess how nervous she's feeling.

Boruto arrived early to Sarada's surprise. He wore the same clothes he wears every day. She felt relief that she didn't overdo it while picking what to wear this morning. 

"Good afternoon, Boruto," she greeted him first. Usually, he was the one initiating conversations with her. A small change in their daily interaction wouldn't hurt. Her dying on the inside after discovering her feelings towards him is a different issue.

Boruto couldn't hide his stupid grin, "Hey, Sarada. It's a different atmosphere you're displaying today. Did something good happen?" 

Sarada only response was silence. Different atmosphere? What he's trying to imply here? Did she appear that snobbish to him? Why she's caring how Boruto views her a lot recently? Before she didn't care about this kind of things. 

"No. I just wanted to greet you in a friendly manner first. That's all. Thank you for telling me what happened between you and Asami yesterday." At first, she felt jealous Boruto talked about this girl so highly considering she was the reason why Sarada got labelled as 'cheater'. Nevertheless, the past is the past. Holding a grudge was quite childish on her part after all.

"I see! Ya know, it's feeling quite refreshing to me too." Right? Sarada noded in an understanding. It's not only her greeting him that was refreshing, but more relaxed atmosphere between them too. Considering all the elements of their relationship and the strange tension every time they had a conversation with each other, feeling relaxed felt good.

"I indeed feel our relationship improved a lot in comparison to how we were treating each other when we met," she laughed at the memory of anger she displayed because of her destroyed smartphone. Laughing wasn't something she did often. That cosy, comfortable feeling in Boruto presence was probably the cause of it all. That feeling of safety overwhelmed her like a fire truck. It almost felt too awesome to be real. And at the same time scary. Just like love.

"We're better friends, but our bet never got solved. The lack of progress on either side is disappointing somehow, ya know?" Boruto shook his head. The lack of progress was indeed disappointing for her too. Four months of trying to discover something without any result was tiring her out.

"True. Are you sure we should investigate this case separately? It amounted to nothing so far," she sighed.

"Oh, I have an amazing idea!" Sarada covered her ears. She might have a soft spot for Boruto, but it doesn't mean her ears didn't hurt from him raising the volume of his voice.

"You do?" She accidentally winked in his direction. She couldn't help it. That reaction was subconscious! Her brain and strange dreams messed up her natural self. She's Sarada Uchiha! The girl that natural expression is serious resting face. Even the person she likes is confused by her action.

"I do! Why won't we meet with our respective family members to figure this out, ya know? Like a joint lunch, or something like that?!" Boruto clapped excitedly 'praising' his genius. Sarada suspected he was weak to compliments quite a while ago. Joint lunch, eh? It would be possible. Mom mentioned that dad should come back home not too long ago to her. She was just occupied by her feelings towards Boruto, so it slipped out from her memory.

"That's quite the quacksome idea!" Sarada replied. Messing up the word awesome was one thing due to her nervousness. Not realising she did it after the deed was done and Boruto was lying on the floor with uncontrollable laughter was another.

"Ahem!" Boruto stood up. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh that long," he corrected himself. 

"Don't apologise. It makes me feel worse for messing up basic vocabulary." Ahh, what a terrible way to look cool in front of her crush.

"When I can come over to your house?" she asked. Her conversational skills are lacking, but being near Boruto give her sensation of hugging her favourite pillow. Is it the feeling of being on the cloud nine that happens when you're in love? That one phase Chō-Chō always says she has while being in 'love' with someone? Sarada was confused about so many conflicted emotions passing through her head during these past few weeks.

"Today should be okay. Ya know, my mom doesn't mind that much when my friends visit without invitations. I think it's different for your parents?" Boruto jolted out from his seat and packed all documents into his small bag. All of the papers couldn't fit in, so he faced a terrible struggle when those papers landed on the floor. Why he's avoiding to look at her? Perhaps, he's just too busy with picking up these documents.

"Hold on a minute. What about us going to the store to buy the new phone for me?" Even if she's in love, she preferred to buy a new phone sooner rather than later. Being love-struck does not equal to being an unreasonable person. Perhaps. It could always be part of her personality and remembering the anger she felt when her phone crashed while meeting Boruto. 

"I forgot about that! Why don't we change our plans and go buy it on Thursday? Thursdays are great, ya know? They have promotions on Thursdays!" Promotions? Was he trying to save money for something? It's the first time she heard his voice crack. 

"Alright. That plan seems good to me." To not pressure him on why he's acting so weird she agreed to his proposition. Eh? Doesn't that mean she's visiting his house today? That's too sudden! And exciting in some way. Sarada was curious about his personal interests. 

"I'll call mom, ya know? Enjoy the tasty food made by her for me, kay Sarada?!" Boruto said. At least he somehow packed all of his school paperwork inside his bag. Now he struggled with closing it. Sarada started to understand why Mitsuki is watching Boruto so much. Even while doing boring stuff he's doing it entertainingly. 

"I know it's a great plan, but my mom thinks I'm going out to buy a new phone today. I need to ask her for permission before coming over. And I for one cannot inform her by using my own phone." At least if he won't borrow to her his own to make a call. That's what she wanted to suggest in a friendly manner. Tried to. Maybe she gives him too much arrogant impression? Or worse? She's not the type the girl he would date?! No! Behaving like Chō-Chō now is a bad idea. Stop illusions in her brain. Just stop. Dating Boruto is like an invitation to a big package with a bold font that has the word 'trouble' written all over it. Well, she's just starting to accepting it to some degree. 

"I see. So you just need to make a quick call, right? There ya go!" Boruto took out a phone from his pocket and handed it to her without questioning any ulterior motives she could possibly have. That means he trusts her not to throw it on the floor in the act of revenge? Anyway, Sarada quickly made a call. After resolving issues with her mom, receiving permission from her felt strange.

"My mom gave me the thumbs up. Saying something about wishing me good luck, or something like that?" Sarada was confused by her mom cheerful tone on the other side of the phone. Giving back phone to Boruto before he accuses her of going through his personal messages, this issue was settled.

"That's cool! Are you ready to taste food from heaven?" he asked. 

She was ready! Time to go pay visit and see where Boruto lives. 

                                ・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・ 

On the way to visit Boruto in his house, he was strangely quiet. Sarada then settled to walk next to him in comfortable silence. Besides, he looked very nervous for some reason. She decided to ask about what bothers him later since now she was hungry.

Arriving at the place of their destination, she observed Boruto's house looks similar to her own from the outside. How is it possible she never bumped into him, when he lived nearby?

"Mom, I'm home! My friend came over today too, ya know?"

The doors to Uzumaki household was opened by his mom, Hinata. Sarada needed to admit that Boruto's mom had an impressive hearing if she could hear him shouting from the spot they were currently standing.

"Oh, you should tell me before that you invited a young girl, Boruto!" Hinata looked at her son with worry. Was she thinking she's Boruto... Girlfriend, or something? The inner panic-struck Sarada's heart, she wasn't ready to face overprotective mothers, the lack of training in that aspect was the wall she needed to overcome now. Her social skills were terrible and dealing with moms of the friends she had, was the last thing on Sarada's list to do.

She barely was being on good terms with her own mom. Their honest talk happened not too long ago, and Sarada still felt distant from her.

"Umm...  Hello, Mrs Hinata. I'm Sarada, it's pleasant to meet you," she said to avoid announcing herself as Boruto's girlfriend.

"Yeah, yeah. Now when my friend introduced herself, can we come in?" Boruto interrupted them.

Feeling grateful he wanted to make her comfortable around his mom, Sarada smiled. Just one of the many things she loved about him.

After entering the house, Boruto's mom turned into a great host, showing her around various rooms and telling where are the stuff she can use. Surprisingly, they had a small chat with each other, so in exchange, Sarada found out she had a lot in common with Mrs Hinata.

Meanwhile, Boruto was sulking saying something about 'life not being fair', as well 'starting to get along too fast.' 

Sarada pretended not to hear these comments. 

"Forgive me if it's rude to ask," Mrs Hinata looked at her in a deep thought. "Do you have feelings for my son?"

Sarada went quiet. How she should answer this question?! She didn't want to insult someone by accident, because of her poor way of using words.

Hinata just nodded seeing her reaction as if it told her everything. Were her feelings that easy to notice?! At this point, Sarada wouldn't be surprised if she saw her face is red like tomatoes she hates.

"I doll, I mean I do, I mean..." her ability to speak vanished.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him." Hinata laughed. "Besides, he's clearly jealous I'm stealing your attention. Go talk to Boruto before he starts to complain his friend ignores him." 

"Alright." 

Feeling relived Sarada bowed to Hinata and went over to Boruto. She needed to admit that she liked the interior of the house. Setting a lot of plants aside, the rest of the house looked cleaner than her own room. "Boruto." 

"Who's speaking?" 

"Me. You invited me here, or is your memory that flawed?" Sarada wanted to scream at how petty he was right now. She didn't have a choice but to talk with his mom. Avoiding misunderstandings about their current relationship was important. 

"My memory is perfect, ya know. Thank you very much."

"Stop being so petty. You're my friend, aren't you?" She started to grow frustrated with his sulking. It wasn't the typical frustration she usually felt. That was on another whole level. New, unknown, thrilling. Sarada had no idea how to deal with these new, sometimes overwhelming whirlwind of feelings. Experiencing them took a toll on her everyday life. 

"I'm not petty!" he objected.

"Yes, you are!" she raised her voice. What the hell happened with his good mood from before? 

"Oh, so even you can get upset, ya know?" Did he try to test her patience? That's so underhanded. 

"That wasn't funny," she whispered. Boruto gaze always gave her impression as if he can see her mind. The deepest thoughts she hides from this world and even herself. Once, it went to the point she suspected he can see her feelings towards him. Friends? This was a lie she's telling to herself. There's no way she can be just a friend to him. Especially with all those feelings flooding her mind.

"I'm sorry. I actually am worried about you, ya know?" Worried? Why? She's in perfect health today.

"Worried? Why?" Her words echoed her thoughts. 

"Well, you see... I'm worried about how you express yourself." he let out a nervous chuckle. "You are keeping to herself too much. It's not a bad thing, believe me! It's just I feel you hold back on expressing yourself. That's not healthy in the long run, ya know?" 

Sarada paused to think about what was said by him. Three to four months ago, for sure she would ignore his words. Not now. Now, when she has all these feelings confusing her, and without outlet she can rely on. Talking about her problems with someone else about not knowing how to express emotions, never crossed her mind. 

"I don't know how to." Yes, she didn't know how to make herself clear. 

"You don't know how to do what?" Boruto was waiting for her answer. 

"How to act around overprotective mothers, or talk to people without scaring them. I don't know how to show my feelings! I just don't!" To be honest, she nearly cried but stopped herself. She didn't want to make a scene in front of Boruto's family. 

"Hey, Sarada. Look at me." Boruto gently placed his hands on her shoulders. The sense of familiarity washed over her. She looked up. His beautiful blue eyes were oddly calming and his soft-looking lips... Was it wrong  wanting to try to kiss him right now? 

Startled by what she intended to do, she promptly backed away. 

"Let's talk about it later. I don't think the time and place is right." She nervously tried to run away from this confrontation. That wasn't the time to unleash her repressed emotions on him and to think she was thinking about kissing him in front of his mother! 

"Fine, let's go eat. Lunch should be ready." Boruto shook his head, he seemed disappointed. 

Ah, instead of asking what was bothering him, she ended up making him worried. 

Stupid teenage hormones.

                                  ・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

Boruto feeling nervous while sitting next to Sarada was the understatement of the year.  This entire morning he tried to not overreact to Sarada's sudden change in behaviour.

At the same time, he liked this change. Sarada looked more relaxed around him. For a while, he thought she needs someone to call her out on holding her feelings back. He had no idea why. It was just important for him to confront her about it himself. There were moments where he really enjoyed being around her too.

Back then, when Sarada nearly embraced him that closeness wasn't something he disliked.  He liked the warm look in her black eyes, the smell of her strawberry shampoo and caring banter they had before the moment died down. 

Boruto asked himself the question of what would happen if he and Sarada were there alone. His little 'what if?' question. 

He scowled in displeasure about not ever learning the answer.

"Mrs Hinata the food is delicious. Boruto was right about it tasting like heaven!" He noted down in his mind that Sarada has good contact with his mom. It's better to avoid trouble from these two getting along.

"Oh, thank you, dear. My son here pretends to be very picky about complimenting my cooking, you know?" Oh, boy. He hoped it won't turn into 'time to embarrass Boruto' afternoon. 

Who's kidding? It totally would. Both mom and Sarada can be really fierce. At least, when they want to. Good thing Himawari still didn't come back from her art lessons. Boruto wasn't sure if he could survive all three of them being in one room and ganging on him.

                                   ・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

Despite emotional turmoil, Sarada faced it was fun to spend lunch with Boruto and his mom. Coming back to her own house, made this happy feeling slowly fade. Generally speaking, she had a good day. 

So why she was feeling like she wasted her chance? 

Nevermind, she just needs to open the door to her own house and rest. Dreams about Boruto were enabling her to sleep properly. However, instead of hallucinations, she'll dream about that she tried to kiss him in front of his mom. No biggie. 

"Hn..."

Wait, that voice coming from the inside of an house...  is not her mom. Did she forget about something? 

That's right! Dad was supposed to come back soon, but she never excepted to be the day he returned. In a frenzy, Sarada quickly unlocked door to see her dad sit on the couch in the living room. 

"Papa, welcome home!" she shouted from excitement and pulled him into an affectionate hug. Some things never change. 

"I missed you too, Sarada." As always her papa was a man that would choose silence over speaking. She didn't mind, who knows when she has a chance to see him again? 

"Mom should say you'll come back today! I wouldn't go over to eat lunch with Boruto then!" Sarada complained while a small smile appeared on the face of the middle-aged man. 

Sasuke Uchiha, even though older still was quite handsome at his age. The only thing betraying him were glimpses of grey hair strands or torn up clothes. 

"Who's Boruto?" Sasuke questioned. 

"He's a good friend and president of the club I'm a member of. You know Naruto Uzumaki, the principal of our school? Boruto is his son." Sarada wasn't sure why she was telling all these little details. Perhaps, she wanted for papa to see Boruto in a more positive light, or her crush went above being 'crush' long ago? 

"Naruto son? Invite him over for lunch at our house this week." 

"Eh, why, papa?" The request coming from her papa was strange.  Well, she should just agree to do that for now. It's not like her dad wants to kill Boruto after all, he just wants to meet him.   Sarada didn't understand why her papa showed interest in inviting Boruto over after she told him he's the principal son. But it can be the piece of the puzzle they need to learn the truth about messages between her mom and Boruto's dad. 

In her distraction, she slammed her body onto the cupboard. Nicely decorated green box, suddenly fallen on her feet. Ouch. The box for sure belonged to her mother, but it was a letter that stuck out that caught her attention. 

What was it? Should she call Boruto to come over? Maybe it contains the truth they need to decide the winner of their bet?

                                    ・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

One day later, Boruto and his entire family came over to  Uchiha household. Adults started to exchange polite greetings with each other. Meanwhile, Sarada concocted a plan to pull Boruto into her room to talk about bet in private. 

Luckily, it looked like the excuse she'll provide was easy to deduce. Boruto parents and her own seemed to know each other and maybe wanted to talk without the presence of children.

Blurting out the excuse about catching up with Boruto, she landed with him in her room. She regretted not pulling with her Himawari too, but she needed talk to the blond without interruptions. 

"Your room looks like a library, ya know!" Boruto eyes focused on every bookshelf she had in the room. Sarada tried not to scream in annoyance. They had more urgent matters right now.

"Were you aware our parents knew each other?" She needed to know the answer. Because if he did it mean he was lying to her from the start. She would hate it. Hate it so much that he was lying in front of her. Especially after she decided to put trust in him and his offer of friendship.

"Nope, I had no clue up until now."

Sarada felt relief. He wasn't lying! She just suspected the worst and was overthinking the entire situation.

"Good to know, since I had no idea either.  Papa decided to invite your family over so suddenly without explaining himself," she pondered the strange situation when it was dad's idea to invite someone over. He usually preferred a small company of people.

"Is the reason you called me still actual?" Boruto eyed her with this 'I'm worried about you' expression he always had when he was thinking she's sad.

"Yes. I found a pretty green box behind a cupboard in the living room. I hid it in my room for us to look inside the content." Sarada hoped the bad feeling she had about what is inside, disappear.

"Are you sure you want to do that? We can always forfeit our bet if it's too much for you, ya know?" She could sense Boruto was feeling nervous too.

"Yes."

As much guilt she felt by going through her mom personal belongings, Sarada wanted to know what's inside. Taking the few deep breaths and reassured by Boruto presence, Sarada decided to open this Pandora Box.

It was too late to regret her actions.

                                    ・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

                                           AN: Hello, everyone! 

I admit I overestimated how many scenes I could fit into this chapter. It came out longer than I excepted and I had to move some of the planned scenes to the chapter nineteen. I made minor changes for those scenes to suit the story more, so that's all. I was surprised to see I would reach nearly 4k words with this chapter. I am doing better after the treadmill accident too. I didn't want to finish on such cliffhanger, but life. Rest is the same as usual. Enjoy the chapter!

                                  Your clumsy author, Karinrumi :)

#Gambler of Feelings #GoF #BoruSara #borutoxsarada #high school au #romance #drama #fluff #chapter 18 #Multi-Chapter #boruto uzumaki #sarada uchiha #hinata uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #sakura uchiha #family time

[asagimeta]

Teen Wolf episode 6x10- “Riders Of The Storm”- Observations And Predictions

So... as most of you have probably guessed, I'm not what you would call "happy" with the episode, in fact, I'm pretty upset by it.. I.. need to go drown in fanon for a wile, but because of my OCD, the observations and predictions come first, so as much as I'd love to get through this quickly, there are alot of questions- and I mean ALOT- that need to be discussed... hopefully I'm not here *all* night though

Stiles still seemed aware as he was looking at the board and saw the ticket before hearing Lydia, this is significant because we see that once again, he's the only person who's aware in the train station (from the original batch, that is) without having a deep emotional connection to draw him out

That Stilinski reunion.... man oh man was that a great reunion, even my mom squealed and got chills! ... Wich makes me wonder why the hell that was all we got, we didn't get ANYTHING else with the sheriff and his son? The sheriff, who has spent the entire season going through this emotional journey with and for Stiles, and finally, FINALLY he seems to have really broken through his negativity towards Stiles for... less than five minutes? Why? That makes zero sense, we even see the sheriff again at the station but this grand reunion only lasted for a few fleeting moments and then isn't even MENTIONED again? Why?

So only one person can see the rift.... that's interesting, or rather, I guess, only one person can see someone coming THROUGH the rift? Malia caused a flicker after all, but you know, man, this just.... this has GOT to point towards magic!Stiles... a rift form and Stiles just plain pushed through it? He didn't get burned? He didn't have to have ANYTHING to do with the Hunt? Even Liam had to jump on that horse in order to get through a rift (how the hell did he actually land upright on that creature anyway?) How does any of that BEGIN to make sense without magic!Stiles? (He could be a were!meerkat by how he sprung up in that jeep...)

Malia trusts Lydia the way Scott should trust Stiles, wich is GREAT development considering the beginning of their relationship was "If she was injured I'd eat her", I'm happy to see it :) I do wonder though, since Scott seems suddenly MUCH more loving and sincere towards Stiles, if he trusts him at all like he should...

"A true alpha, a werewcoyote, a banshee-" "A Stiles", God this one scene, this one LINE, has so much in it, so much magic!Stiles potential!! For one thing, this is very oddly similar to the speech Theo made- "I came for the beta with anger issues, the banshee, the dark kitsune, the werecoyote, I came for Void Stiles!" (I don't remember if that's the right order but you get my point) How eerily similar.... and then there's the fact that once again Stiles is referring to himself as a *something*, "What the hell is a Stiles?" ring any bells? Plus the entire "What are you now?" "Better" convo... and remember, a stiles is a bridge that humans can cross but not animals, so a Stiles is a bridge.... ugh there's just so much there....

Reunions continue to give me life, they continue to kill me and give me life, I have nothing to say except that really

Parrish's green fire... huh..... his oddness continues to amaze me but there's nothing meta about it I can think of for now

So... what determines where people go? I mean on the one hand you have people like Mason and Hayden ending up in the same place because they were taken around the same time but.... then on the other hand Peter was taken the same episode and ended up somewhere COMPLETELY different, there's no link between someone being taken by Dug vs the actual hunt either, and yet some are ending up at the actual train station and some are ending up in places scattered around Beacon Hills that have been turned into the train station... even Scott and Stiles later on are taken at almost exactly the same time and yet Stiles ends up on one floor of the school and Scott ends up on the other... what determines where someone goes? Anything?

I can't believe Stiles was gone for three months, I mean I know that time moves differently in the other realm, we all knew that, but I still thought it was three weeks at the very MOST, am I the only one who didn't ///AT ALL//// feel like three months had passed in canon?

I'm so happy that Stiles did that liquid nitrogen thing, I love seeing his quick-thinking in action, wich isn't meta but it's just... it's nice... and I deserve something nice after that ending.....

So... you can't stop the train... but you're going to divert the train to send them to another town .. to... do their supernatural feasting elsewhere...? That seems awfully ... chaotic neutral to me.... or maybe lawfull neutral I don't know.... but it's just odd, that Scott, the KING of We Have To Save Everyone, just sends the train on it's way without even trying to look into a more permenant solution, and why, again, do we not know why the hunt was stuck? Are they not at all concerned that they'll get stuck in the next place too? It just seems so abrupt and desperately OOC that they didn't even bother looking into anything else, they didn't exactly exhaust any efforts, and if it was a matter of time, why not divert it for NOW and go back to it later? But no, everyone just moved on like the Big Bad was actually defeated....

And because I'm letting myself talk about nice things this post, have we talked about Papa Stiles/Pack Mom Stiles lately? Because it was nice and present in this episode and I appreciate that on EVERY level

So... Scott seems IMMENSELY more clingy with Stiles than he's ever, EVER been before and oh God I love it, "Do you want to split up?" "Never again"- when has Scott ever had that attitude towards Stiles? Especially in a serious, life or death- mass life or death at that- situation? That's more like something Stiles would say to Scott, I'm so happy to see this development, and although the mysterious bad-memories scene last episode wasn't addressed, I think it did really make some changes to how Scott sees Stiles, and I'm glad for that, if not still a little confused, having the freindship in canon that they have in fanon is something I've always wanted to see (even though it's way too early to tell if that's really what's happening/going to happen, it's still worth mentioning)

Onto something I *don't* appreciate however, the Malia and Peter scene, it feels like Malia really was forced to give up alot of autonomy here, she has VERY clearly chosen more than once to consider herself a Tate and not a Hale, and has made it as explicitly clear as she possibly can, and yet this entire season has been showing the Malia HALE connection with no references to her father and very much pushing Malia into a relationship she clearly doesn't want- and worse, pushing it in an emotional way, I mean I get in *canon* why they had to do that and it makes sense, but I wish the writers had done it differently because it just seems strange that she spent so much time clearly denying being a Hale and now all of a sudden it's forced down her throat, like asking someone "Do you want a red popsicle or a blue one?" and then when they say red you give them nothing but blue, it's.... very annoying....

I'm just... really surprised no one has made the "wolf herding the sheep" analogy with Peter leading the people out of the train station yet... honestly... *cough*

Why can Peter make contact one second and not the next? One minute his claws are going straight through the rider, hitting nothing but fog, and then the next he's able to kick the guy into the wall? What changed? It didn't seem like there was really any difference

So Corey being used as a bridge actually explains ALOT about how people are crossing in and out of the other realm and why the memory stuff seemed to sort of stop with Corey, remember that the last time someone was brought up as being forgotten it was Corey himself, and after Mason found his phone it sort of... stopped, so Corey merging the realities explains THAT much atleast

Ahh the scene were Stiles is almost shot... it mirrors the scene with the chemist in season four so well, once again someone is about to shoot Stiles, who closes his eyes but stays otherwise still, scrunches up his face and then- BAM, out of nowhere someone saves him, Raf the first time, Lydia the second, there's got to be a reason they chose to mirror THAT scene, it wasn't for Stydia, because that wasn't a Stydia scene or even a Stydia EPISODE- hell if anything it was a Stalia episode, so if they weren't going for magic!Stiles, why clone THAT scene? It makes no sense if you aren't going for magic!Stiles, and then let me point out, once again Stiles makes a point of trying to say "Scott, I can't fight this guy" when historically he DOES seem to "fight these guys" on his own pretty well...

Well Stydia is canon for atleast now, I'm not that concerned, I actually don't mind Stydia, I still think that it's only temporary, that something will happen in 6B to jiggle them and we might get Sterek endgame (or everyone single, that's common to come up in the meta pack) but we'll see, considering how much the end of the episode bothered me, I really can't be bothered to worry about Stydia in any way....

Finally someone gets it about the ghost guns!! I'm glad Chris makes a point of saying he needs one of those guns, but it's annoying that no one bothered to realize that the riders can be killed by their own guns before now, since we've had an entire season and they only find out about this in the end (well, only ACKNOWLDGE it at the end) only to... not... use it again... I do love that cute western scene with the showdown between Chris and the hunter though, that was nice, and having a canon McArgent pair is really cute, but it begs the question of Scott, does he even know? What's his reaction to it? I mean his mom is dating his dead ex-girlfreind's dad who also hunts werewolves... that's... that's like six levels of awkward but he hasn't even found out yet to our knowledge... that'll be some real wasted potential if they don't do anything with this next season

OK BOYS, GIRLS, AND NON-BINARIES WE HAVE FREAKING PROOF THAT CLAUDIA IS NOT A TULPA! She was, in fact, conjured by the Hunt, unlike Caleb, I am amazed and shocked and really happy to have this information, although it's a little bit sad that we don't have something!Sheriff anymore, knowing that Claudia is something other than a Tulpa explains alot, and we can chalk the beleif/non-beleif thing up to the fact that Claudia was only there for the sheriff's benefit, if he didn't believe in her, what was the point? (Although, am I evil for wishing Stiles had had a flashback of himself and real!Claudia?)

I also really liked the "He has a pack but I'm not in it" thing, particuarly because I really thought for a second there that Theo was going to try to be part of the pack before Malia stepped in, Peter got the best line of the night too- "No one likes a nazi", so finally I'll credit a point to Peter for something good

"Worming is one of my skills" Stiles says, as if there are more skills there besides your basic human skills... I need magic!Stiles guys, I've had this carrot dangled in front of me and jerked away too long and too many times now, I don't know how much longer I can take it

So um... is it me or... do we... still not *quite* know what exactly the train does yet...?

That was one cool rider transformation, someone in the meta chat mentioned that maybe the riders are people who tried to control the hunt and they became part of it, that's a pretty good theory I think, I'm curious about the nazi arm badge though, do all riders have something so specific to them as a person on their wardrobe or is it just Dug?

Man those nine herbs are really making the rounds, wouldn't THAT have been usefull since, oh I don't know..... season one.....

Ok I guess... I guess it's time to talk about the ending, I don't want to honestly but there's just so much weirdness.... Stiles giving up the bat was pretty IC, but that was pretty much it, for one thing the Sciles thing is completely out of left feild, just last episode Malia tells Scott that Stiles has been apartment hunting for them, and now he's suddenly moving all the way across the country? Not just to another town or another state but another COAST, remember that for Stiles, essentially, only a month has passed since then and graduation, there's arguement that this last scene is placed in August after their last summer together but still, Stiles would have needed to apply for school and blah-blah.... Scott is FINALLY returning Stiles' affections on level with how Stiles acts towards him and NOW he goes across the country? And FBI? Are you kidding me? Law school I was prepared for, reluctantly, but I figured that even though it doesn't fit Stiles' charector they might toss him there anyway, but FBI? No, Stiles HATED the FBI, he made it clear that his issues with Raf were not solely about Raf, but that he just didn't like the FBI snooping in his town's business, he thought it was intrusive, I could see Stiles as a sheriff or a deputy if you want him in law enforcement, atleast that's comfortable enough with Stiles still being in Beacon Hills, still being near his loved ones and protecting his home and the people he's cared about, but Stiles has NEVER expressed interest in moving away and doing any kind of large-scale protecting people mission, that's always only been Scott who cares about large-scale protecting, Stiles just wants to protect his HOME and that has never showed sign of changing, and he's getting help from Raf now too? I don't think Stiles would accept it if it was offered, plus the school he's attending is OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive and with the financial issues brought up in season four he must have had one hell of alot of scholarships to afford it, how much make up did he do after missing three months in order for THAT to happen? Then there's handing over the jeep, wich we now know is his MOM'S jeep, just.... that ... no... and why would Lydia drive him to Washington? That isn't about Stydia, that's about the weirdness of Lydia driving Stiles to Washington, seven hours away from where she belongs at MIT, instead of either of them taking a plane (Stiles doesn't have a car anymore, why drive? It'd be cheaper and easier to take a plane) and Stiles has been back in BH for over a month and didn't get his liscence back? What's the hold-up? That seems awfully important, then you have the non-Stiles stuff, Liam is still insistant on not being the Alpha or even the Alpha replacement but people seem to ignore him, no one mentions Malia and what she's going to do after highschool even though it's CLEARLY taking place when they're going off to college (IE: probably around August) and summer school should be done, even if it wasn't though, why would she be the only one of the main pack who hasn't even MENTIONED plans- or had plans mentioned about her- for after highschool? Then there's Scott getting into UCDavis, now I know nothing about colleges (and I'd like to keep it that way) but he was failing alot of classes before and he and Stiles both express the "I can't believe you got into UCDavis" thing with no explanation of HOW he got in, I just??? And wait, wait.... Stiles has this big parting scene with his dad nowhere to be found? I get it, I mean, Dylan may not have come back to 6B at the point that they were filming this, they were filming his exit, SO WHY WAS HIS DAD NO WHERE TO BE FOUND ANYWHERE IN THE LAST HALF OF THE EPISODE AT ALL? After the entire season featured SO. MUCH. of that relationship being repaired.... ///what////?

And then we come to the THING- the big thing: The body in the woods, now this may seem like just a cute throwback to season one and hell, it might be, I mean my credits of placing winning bets on this show clearly doesn't show for MUCH, but alot of people seem to feel like this ending was very ominous- it was very nice on a surface level, it was pretty but.... I can't be the only one who was waiting for something to dart out in front of the jeep and cause it to crash in the last minute of the show, because that's how Teen Wolf works- it's how Teen Wolf ALWAYS works, it just felt so strange... too neatly tied up, not just in a "Everyone was happy" kind of a way but ... it was just... too neat, there are plenty of ways to have happy endings that still have some mess to them and this felt utterly unnatural in all of the worst of ways, I described it in the meta chat earlier as "uncomfortably weird"- wich is great in the way that Teen Wolf is a horror show and the definition of horror isn't gore and jump-scares, it's making the audience uncomfortable, but... it's not a good kind of uncomfortable? It's the uncomfortable of, say, the Lost Girl finale', where everything just felt supremely weird in a loose-ends, OOC, the writers stopped caring sort of a way....

There have been alot of theories going back and forth in the meta chat, mostly between Athena and I, but we're wondering if this even actually happened, different realities may have bled through, this might be LITERAL wish-fullfillment for one of the charectors as everyone is stuck in the trance via the Hunt (honestly I'd pay to see that one) or even a genie, hell, it might not even be the real Stiles, maybe this Stiles is as much a Hunter-induced changeling as Claudia was.... it just feels like the kind of fanfiction ending season-one!Stles would have written, if that makes sense, he got everything he wanted in season one: The girl, Scott's approval and affection, his dad's approval and affection, closure with his mom, getting into some top-notch school for law enforcement (because that IS something I believe he would have wanted up till around season three) and everyone was kinda given the ending he probably thought they'd have, Lydia is mysteriously a junior at MIT and Scott despite all odds got into his school of choice, people like Malia who he didn't know in season one are mysteriously absent of an ending at all however... and think about the filming facts we have so far:

Jackson will return for 6B at atleast some point, Scott, Malia, Lydia, and Stiles, have all been filming even though three out of those four are supposedly not in BH at current, Rafeal has been filming, and even though Stiles will be in 6B we know his filming schedule has been tight and probably won't be in it as much as some of the others, all of that could easily line up for one of the above endings, especially with Jackson, who might appear as part of Stiles' hunt-induced hallucination/alternate universe or what have you....

*sigh* I am tired

I am tired and need fanon and I'm going to run and hide in powerplay-Vikturi fanfiction

Teen Wolf comes back in the summer for the last time, this is our last shot folks, prayer circle that we get everything- or atleast a few of the most important things- that we want from 6B, and that this weird, creepy, bizzare ending is completely overwritten

#Teen Wolf #season six speculation #I am old and tired and cynical